


Origin Story

by Worldmaker



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Marvel (Comics), Power Girl (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe (Buffy the Vampire Slayer), Marvel Universe, Multi, Not a Gender Bender Regardless of What It Looks Like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 257,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9106846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Worldmaker/pseuds/Worldmaker
Summary: Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him.  This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters.  That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.





	1. Orbital Decay

**XxxxxxX**

_"I know the truth. I remember all that happened, and I'm not going to forget. Worlds lived, worlds died. Nothing will ever be the same... I like to remember the past because those were better times than now. I mean, I'd rather live in the past than today, wouldn't you? I mean, nothing's ever certain anymore. Nothing's ever predictable like it used to be. These days... y-you just never know who's going to die... and who's going to live." – **The Psycho-Pirate,** “Crisis on Infinite Earths” #12._

**XxxxxxX**

Had there been enough atmosphere to carry the sound, the noise of the event would have been deafening; as it was, the entire cataclysmic instance came and went in complete silence. A sudden burst of heat and light and radiation accompanied the tearing open of a hole in the very fabric of reality. The hole existed for only a moment, if such things can be said to exist at all, but that was enough for it to spit forth a flesh-and-blood figure of human shape and proportion, clad only in the skin it had been born in. The figure had been propelled as if it was a bullet fired from a gun.

Xander Harris blinked, twice, utterly surprised at his whereabouts. A moment ago, he had been on the streets of Sunnydale, escorting a group of children while they gathered candy on Halloween. He had been wearing the horribly embarrassing costume... the girl's costume with the blonde wig and the fake gag breasts that Cordelia Chase had forced him into after he lost the bet. He remembered talking to Buffy and Willow at one point, then the three of them splitting up. Then there was a muted grayness from which he could discern events with which he had no mental connection at all. And then suddenly he was here, above the earth, falling uncontrollably.

As he took a very short second to wonder how he'd ended up in this position, Xander had flashes of memory. The flashes involved his protecting a screaming woman, and a ghost, and a girl in a cat costume from being attacked by monsters. He had a vague memory of a tall blonde man's face changing into something horrible in front of his eyes... but these flashes came and went without him being able to concentrate on them. The truth was, Xander was having trouble concentrating on anything other than the ground, which was climbing up to punch him like a very slow-moving fist.

It took him a moment to realize where he was, and for the terrible knowledge that low orbit above the Earth was, naturally, an untenable position for a naked human being to find itself in. His first thought had been that he was floating... and then he realized that not only was he moving across the landscape, but that the landscape below him was getting closer every second. Naturally, he immediately opened his mouth and began screaming like a little girl.

Not that there was enough air around him to carry the sound yet. He was beginning to feel the slips and scraps of atmosphere around him, but by no means was it enough to carry sound. Or to allow him to breathe at all. With a concentration that could only be gained through being in such overwhelming physical danger, he recognized that he really should be choking to death at any minute; he should be freezing to death, or suffering the effects of explosive decompression. None of that was happening, which confused him even more. The knowledge that he was still alive when he should be swiftly dying did nothing to calm him down, and he screamed some more.

He had two odd thoughts as he fell and screamed. While his conscious mind was busy being terrified by his onrushing doom, his subconscious mind had been analyzing everything he'd seen and was thrusting two startling conclusions into his head. The first was a recognition that he was high enough to see the curvature of the Earth, which meant no doubt that he was doomed to die in fiery re-entry into the atmosphere. The second was the same thought every astronaut had ever had, viewing the Earth from this distance: _Wow! Isn't the world an amazingly beautiful place?_

After a few minutes, he began to hear a high-pitched keening, and it surprised him to realize what it was. It was his own voice. The air around him had thickened to the point that he could begin to hear himself screaming, and he did sound just like a little girl.

The air around him was beginning to glow from the friction of his passage through it. A few second later and he was surrounded by streamers of heated gas; the air was literally catching fire from the heat generated by his fall. The same part of his brain that recognized that he wasn't strangling to death on the vacuum of space noticed that he wasn't burning. Atmospheric friction could melt and burn meteors composed of solid iron until such rocks were nothing more than ash and cinder, but he wasn't burning. He could feel a mild warmth, but not the multiple-thousands of degrees that tumbling through the atmosphere at such speeds as he was traveling should have caused.

As the feeling of warmth increased, the heat began to get uncomfortable, but never really turned painfully hot. The air pressure had increased to the point that the wind thundered in his ears, but he was not deafened. He could still hear himself screaming over the roar of the surrounding wind. Below him the Earth had turned from a vast expanse of blue gray to a light tan, and then a vast expanse of pale tannish white. At first Xander thought he was falling into snow. Eventually his mind caught up to itself and he realized that flashing by below him was a desert. He had a slight grasp of his trajectory and realized that he was going to smash into the range of low mountains currently sitting just this side of the horizon.

He stopped screaming. The entire experience had become too much. Xander knew that his likely point of hit the ground didn't matter at all; no matter where he landed, he'd be touching down with the force of a bomb. The force of impact would be enough to vaporize him, most likely, and he would probably be dead before he had a chance to realize he'd struck the surface of the earth. He had time to start praying, and did so. While he'd never been an overly religious person, Xander's experiences with the supernatural had convinced him that God existed, and that there was a Heaven. It was basic logic. Such things as demons and Hell could not exist if their counterpart angels and Heaven did not. His mind couldn't conceive of a world that unfair. And so, in desperation, he prayed. He prayed to God, to Jesus, Mohammed, Vishnu, Thor, Odin, Zeus, Chango. Being a George Carlin fan, he even tossed a quick prayer in the direction of Joe Pesci.

Xander Harris was still praying when he barreled into the side of a mountain at nearly the speed of sound. His impact was harder than any human being had any right to survive, and created a crater nearly seventy feet wide and forty feet deep. He was almost instantly unconscious from the shock of it all.

**XxxxxxX**

The radar screen was obligingly clear. Occasionally, the radar pick-up would read a scheduled space launch from Cape Canaveral, or from Jiuquan in China, Baikonur in Khazakstan, or Kagoshima in Japan. But mostly from Cape Canaveral. The launches from the southern hemisphere were monitored by a separate facility. On other occasions, they'd pick up high-altitude testing of experimental aircraft, or a trans-polar passenger plane, or a larger-than-normal meteor. And on very rare occasions they could track the atmospheric re-entry of one of the larger pieces of space-trash.

Once they'd been able to track the homicidal artificial intelligence known as Ultron as it attempted to escape the Avengers. That was a fun night, with many a bet made between radar operators.

But tonight, nothing was being launched, and that was a good thing. When you were a radar telemetry specialist for the North American Aerospace Defense Command, “boring and empty screens” was the preferred status. 'Boring and empty' meant none of the members of the Worldwide Nuclear Club was angry at another member. 'Boring and empty' meant that, for tonight at least, there wasn't going to be a nuclear war.

Senior Airman David Keller was tired and hated it. In his opinion, it wasn't fair; no matter how much sleep he got, he still felt exhausted during the overnight shift. His body just wasn't adjusting to not sleeping at night. But he was damned if he would fall asleep on the job before he reached the end of the week. Falling asleep while you were on the line was not the way to make the officers and senior non-coms you worked for happy, and unhappy officers tended to do silly things like dock your pay and take away your weekend liberty.

The weekend was the Holy Grail for him. He had a week of leave coming up, and a plane to catch back to Tampa where he belonged. It wasn't that Keller didn't love his job; running a FARLOOK radar station as part of the “shield of the sky” against incoming missiles was an important and vital job, and it could be a lot of fun as well. And it was both technical enough to be interesting and simple enough to not need a PhD to do it well. But he was a Florida boy, born and bred; Alaska was about as far from Florida as one could get and still be in the United States. And it was all wrapped up in that one word: Alaska. He's make it a new curse word had he the power to do so. As far as Keller was concerned, Alaska sucked serious ass. The weather sucked. The lack of beaches sucked. The fact that all the lakes were freezing cold sucked.

And of course, the ultimate problem with Alaska, in David Keller's opinion, was that you couldn't get decent citrus here. No decent lemons, no decent grapefruit, and especially no decent oranges. All you could get was those shriveled up pieces of crap citrus from California. _California! Couldn't you just laugh?_ His brother had once air-mailed him ten pounds of Florida navel oranges straight from the Hale Groves in Indian River. He'd taken one of his precious soft-ball sized navel oranges to the mess hall specifically to compare them to the piece-of-shit tennis-ball sized California oranges. The mess sergeant had shrugged in a “what can you do” way. And then he'd offered Keller five bucks for one of his navel oranges. Keller had taken the five bucks, and the next time he talked to his brother, he'd asked Jim to send him another load of oranges.

In Keller's opinion, calling Alaska a shit hole was an insult to shit holes. 

Keller blinked, then blinked again. Then again. Almost casually, he rubbed at his eyes, trying to keep the crinkly-around-the-edges feeling from taking them over. Without realizing he was doing it, Keller yawned. He caught it before it went too far and began berating himself for yawning, only to immediately do it a second time in the middle of his self-directed rant. He brought his hand up to his eyes again and closed them, pressing slightly. While his eyes were closed, he yawned a third time, wider than the last two times. It was during this third yawn that a white circle about the size of a grain of rice popped up onto his screen out of nowhere. His computer, which thought infinitely faster than he did immediately labeled the new contact 001-000X.

Keller reopened his eyes and spotted the white spot on his screen. He stared at it a moment before realizing what it indicated. _Oh shit! How did that get there!_ The contact's label caught his attention. The computer apparently didn't recognize the contact by its radar-return silhouette, which was odd. He immediately entered the command to run the analysis program he and his fellow radar technicians referred to as the “dishwasher program.” It analyzed the signal over and over and over, cleaning it of chaff and false returns as much as possible to get a better radar-return and potentially identifying the object. The white circle on his screen got smaller, but the -000X indicator did not change. The computer still had no idea what this thing was. He started an impact track and, finally managing to conquer his nerves, hit his comm button. “Control, Station Four.”

 _“Go four.”_ The voice of the current duty officer, Lieutenant Loraine Pye, came back to him almost instantly.

“Control, I have a re-entry event at 58.351422 by 134.511579, angels 35 and falling fast.” Keller entered a re-confirm command into his terminal, just to make sure what he was telling the duty officer was accurate. “Contact logged at...” the airman glanced at the time readout in the corner of his computer screen. “Make that logged at 0241 hours.”

 _“Contact at 58.351422 by 134.511579 angels 35. Copy. Do you have an identification, Four?”_ Keller heard the Lieutenant's voice both in his headset and from outside of it, telling him that she was swiftly approaching his station. He ran the contact through the wash for a second time. Again, the best that happened was that the contact rang back with a better positional fix. That gave them its general size, but by no means identified what sort of object it was.

“Negative. No identification.” As the lieutenant was now standing next to him, Keller pushed his headset away from his ears to avoid the possible feedback squeal caused by her headset's close proximity. “Ma'am, I've washed it three times and still can't tell you what it is.” He tapped a series of commands into his keyboard and a second window opened on his screen that listed the little information he did know. “Its reading dense, but not as dense as metal or stone. The wash says that it can't be more than two meters long. Irregular return means that we don't have smooth surfaces; I don't think this is a missile at all. And the return is pretty soft, too. See?”

He tapped his monitor screen with a fingernail, and Lieutenant Pye helpfully leaned over his shoulder to look for herself. He was quiet for a moment as his duty officer contemplated the information he was feeding her.

“Okay,” Pye said slowly, still thinking. “So, it's not a missile, and its softer than metal. What would your best guess be?”

Keller was quiet for a long while, thinking. Pye wasn't the type of officer who would bite a guy's head off if he made an educated guess and was wrong. That said, she was the kind of officer who would bite a guy's head off for having all the information and still being wrong.

“If I had to guess, I'd think it was a chunk of one of those stealth bombers. They read like this when they have their bomb bay doors open.”

The lieutenant nodded. “And you know what that looks like on a radar screen?” she added with a grin.

“Ask me no questions, ma'am, and I'll tell you no lies.” It was an old joke. The people who flew the USA's fleet of stealth aircraft liked to brag about the fact that they were functionally invisible when they were in the air. The truth is, if the radar in question was powerful enough, no amount of stealthing would stop a flight detection. And NORAD had the most powerful radar emitters on the planet, outside of the observatory at Arecibo in Puerto Rico and its 385-meter-wide radar dish. The men and women who manned the nation's sky defense system didn't ever intentionally rub the fact that their little invisible planes were clearly visible to the radars of NORAD in the pilots' collective faces. Because that would be wrong.

Pye grinned. “Okay, let's consider this.” She pulled her headset back into its proper position and spoke into the microphone. “Firewatch, this is Control.”

A slightly electronic-sounding voice came back to her within moments. _“Firewatch. Go Control.”_

“Sergeant Baker, do we have anything that even looks like a launch detection? We have a contact with no go-alarms.” She returned her gaze to Keller's radar screen.

 _“Control, I have negative on launch detection. We do have a notification of a commercial launch out of Great Mercury Island, but it's supposed to be geo-stationary and not enter our AOC at all.”_ Baker had naturally been monitoring when Keller called Pye. _“Should we go to alert, ma'am?”_

“Wait one, Firewatch.” Lieutenant Pye turned her full attention back to Keller and his contact. “Okay, so nothing but a commercial satellite launch out of New Zealand. How's this thing's arc. Is it a ballistic?” Ballistic contacts were free-falling rather than guided, and most ballistic contacts were natural objects like meteors.

Keller taped a few commands. “That's affirmative, ma'am. It is on a free-falling course with no corrections. I'd say it was completely unguided. Radar-return says its juking slightly, probably because of the winds.” He shrugged. “Might not be all that aerodynamic if it's a natural.”

“I don't know.” She had a vague, questioning look on her face. “A non-aerodynamic ballistic that reads like a stealth aircraft? You ever see anything like that before?” When Keller shook his head, she muttered, “Neither have I.” She continued to stare over Keller's shoulder for a moment. “Time to impact?”

“Um... hold one.” The radar tech entered several commands before finally turning to the duty officer. “Looks like about six, maybe seven minutes.”

“Any idea where it's going to hit?”

The tech tapped at his computer, bringing up a map. “Projected impact in the Silver Island Mountains in Nevada. That's near the Bonneville Salt Flats, ma'am. Big wide open are without a lot of people except the gear-heads who like to race their cars on the sale. Shouldn't be any casualties and only minor environmental damage.”

“Roger,” Pye nodded. “Give me an update if anything changes.” She turned back toward her own station. “Firewatch, Control. Take us to Alert One.” She sighed. “I'll give the CO a call.”

Everyone in the room heard it when the PA system announced, _“Condition set to Alert One. The count has started.”_ On the digital screen at the front of the room, a man of the western coast of the United States and Canada suddenly appeared. The contact was indicated by a small white circle. A white line extending behind it showed where it had been, while a red line projecting ahead of it showed its anticipated course.

**XxxxxxX**

Less than five minutes later, both Captain Tillend, Lieutenant Pye's immediate superior, and Colonel Ball, the commander of the post, stormed into the operations center. Both were frowning, though whether it was from the mysterious nature of the contact or the fact that Pye had called them in at two in the morning was anyone's guess. Both walked to the control station, staring at the big board. The contact's path was plotted, and was expected to hit somewhere near Bonneville in Nevada within the next couple of minutes. The projected impact site had a blinking yellow circle around it.

After a few moments, the Colonel turned to Pye. “All right, Lieutenant, tell me what you have.”

“Yes sir. At 0241, Senior Airman Keller recorded a ballistic contact on re-entry. Radar-return says that the object was either very small or was non-reflective. The object was clearly unguided and was experiencing course interference from the wind. The air resistance was not corrected, so it was ruled unguided. Keller also said it was giving a return like what we get from the stealth aircraft, which lead us to further believe that whatever it was made of was relatively soft. I tasked a couple of SIDELOOKS and the silhouette on this thing was just too irregular to be a missile. Honestly, it looked more like one of the old Sputniks. Or maybe a really strange-shaped chair. And no, sir, I don't think it was a Sputnik or a chair. Just making a connection,” she finished in response to the Captain's quick grin.

Colonel Ball smirked. “Yeah, that would be something. I can see explaining to General Praley how Nevada got bombed by a piece of furniture from outer space.” This caused both Pye and Tillend to chuckle.

“Anyway, sir, according to the SIDELOOK radar, the object is between a meter and a half to two meters long, roughly a meter in diameter, and is semi-permeable to the radar.” She took a deep breath. “Off the record, sir, I'm willing to take a shot and call a meteor. Probably made of one of the softer types of rock rather than nickel or iron. Must have started out huge to keep that much mass after re-entry burn. We won't know until someone retrieves it.”

Ball turned back to the board. “Is that 'best guess', Lieutenant?”

“Yes sir,” Pye gave a quick, curt nod. “Second best guess would be some sort of spacecraft debris or a dead satellite. Lord knows, there's enough of that hanging around in orbit.”

“Both sound plausible.” He took a quick glance at the Lieutenant. “Got anything else?”

“No sir.”

He knew she would have told him, but he had to ask. “Radiologicals?”

“No sir. At least, not according to that new toy the people from Stark installed last month.” She started to say something else, but stopped herself.

“What is it, Lieutenant.”

“Well, sir, there was one other thing and it was really, really weird.” Pye consulted her notes. “Thermal imaging showed the thing had been heated up by atmospheric friction. We expected that. But at its warmest point, the object was still cooler than any object we've ever seen that had just burned through the air. Its warm, but still colder than it has any right to be. And according to the thermals, it cooled off far faster than could be explained by standard heat loss.”

As they watched the big board, the red line indicating the object's projected course got shorter and shorter until finally the yellow circle marking the estimated point of impact began blinking red. “Still nothing on radiologicals?” Colonel Ball asked.

One of the technicians answered. “No sir. Still zero on radiologicals”.

“Very well. Good work, everyone. Well done.” The Colonel turned to Captain Tillend and his duty officer. “Okay, I'm going to get on the horn to General Praley and see if we can't get a team spun up out of Mountain View. They're the closest to the impact site. Hopefully the General can convince them to go look at the impact site and confirm if it's a meteor after all. In the mean-time, everyone carry on their regular duties.”

The colonel picked up the phone at the control station and hurriedly tapped a series of numbers.

**XxxxxxX**

Four hours later, two Air Force search and rescue helicopters flew south from Mountain View Air Force Base in Idaho. It had taken them twenty minutes to reach the general area of the impact site in the Silver Island Mountains, and they'd been searching for another ten.

“Hotel-99, this is Hotel Lead. According to the map we can't be more than about a kick out from where our target came down. You spotted anything yet?” Major Doyle Duffy curved his HH60-G Pave Hawk helicopter on a slow left-leaning curve, all the while checking the ground with both radar and his night scope. So far, the only visible evidence for their target was the high-altitude contrail left by the object as it fell; the contrail was still glowing slightly from the heat of the meteor's passage and was only now seriously diffusing because of the wind. Unfortunately, it didn't reach below 5000 feet anyway, making it useless to find the fallen object. The UFO and chemtrail wackadoos were no doubt going to get a lot of mileage from it, though. All Duffy knew was that, at six o'clock in the morning local, it looked pretty in the morning light, and he believed that the world could always use more pretty.

The voice of Lieutenant Phillip Mickelson, the pilot of the other helicopter, came back to him over the radio almost immediately. _“Negative, Hotel Lead. I'm going to take the opposite curve and will meet you in the middle.”_ Duffy watched as the trailing helicopter began a slow right-hand turn that mirrored his turn to the left.

“Roger, 99.” Duffy responded. He nodded as he spoke, knowing that the other pilot wouldn't be able to see the gesture. Beside him his co-pilot, Lieutenant Jamie Hall, rolled her eyes at her pilot but didn't say anything. “Keep an eye out for anything unusual. According to NORAD, this meteor was really weird. They didn't tell me how, so keep your eyes open for anything.”

“I still can't believe they deployed us to hunt for a rock.” Hall's comment was sardonic and spot on. It had been an odd thing for the SAR crew to be tasked to do.

“You and me both, Jamie. You and me both.” Apparently, they'd been given the job because they were the ones spun up and ready to go. It was being listed as a training flight. “They didn't give me any real detail on this, so I figure we're doing Mushroom Duty.” Duffy's second in command just nodded. Mushroom Duty was informal code for any job Air Force personnel were given without any explanation, just a command to get it done. The phrase's origins hearkened back to the joke that mushrooms were 'kept in the dark and fed a steady stream of bullshit.'

“Right.” Lieutenant Hall grimaced. “This is why I joined the Air Force, sir. So I could spend all night looking for rocks in the middle of Nevada.” She shook her head and added, just softly enough to hear, “Like there aren't tons of rocks in Nevada...”

“Just remember, it could be worse. We could be making this search in Afghanistan. Or Iraq, heaven forfend.” Duffy completed his turn and began another turn in the opposite direction, quartering the landscape as best as he could. “99, I'm starting my second turn.” The helicopter straightened out, extending its line for a hundred meters. He then angled it right.

 _“Roger. Second turn,”_ was the only reply on the radio.

Hall's mouth tightened into a moue as the maneuver was completed. “Is forfend even a word?”

Before the Major could reply, a deeper male voice sounded from the cabin behind them. “We're flying over a desert made of salt crystals. The only thing making Afghanistan worse than this are that there are people in Afghanistan shooting at us.” Technical Sergeant Aaron Cruz was the EMT for the flight. While their orders for this deployment didn't mention the possibility of casualties, Major Duffy had long ago learned that it was a dumb idea to ever leave base without his medic. “And even then, if I had to choose between being shot at and having to walk out of this shit if we crashed? I think I'd take being shot at.”

“Wait! I think I got something.” Lieutenant Hall said. “Just about two o'clock. Looks like... okay, looks like a police cruiser, a fire truck, and an EMT bus. They've got their lights on; if they hadn't moved into the shadows I'd have missed them.”

It took a moment for Duffy to spot what she was pointing at. “Good work. Let's go look.” He angled his helicopter towards the ground vehicles. “99, this is lead, we've spotted a group of emergency vehicles. Probably heading for our target. Fall in behind me and we'll see what we see.”

 _“Roger, lead.”_ Within a minute the other chopper was in formation with him. The two aircraft did a careful fly-over of the first responders. The three vehicles were climbing an unpaved dirt path into the deeper into the Silver Islands.

“Anyone else wonder where they're going at this time in the morning in this empty and forbidding landscape?” Cruz asked from the back. His tone made it clear that he had no doubt at all in his mind where the civilian authorities were headed.

“Maybe we should ask them,” the co-pilot observed.

“What an excellent idea.” Duffy pushed a couple of buttons on the radio, switching its frequency from the operational channel to the standard civilian emergency channels. “Jaime, try and find a call sign; might be on a vehicle chassis. I'd hate to just call them 'Hey you, emergency guys!'” He maneuvered his helicopter to the right side of the road, high enough to not spook the first responders while simultaneously being visible to them.

The radio locked onto the emergency channel and the helicopter crew could hear a smattering of chatter. It sounded like none of the first responders had noticed the two helicopters yet. That would change in a hurry. Helicopters were a lot of things, but quiet was not one of them. And those designed, as these two were, to be used to assist in rescues and disaster relief have been made intentionally louder than the standard helicopter, because a louder helicopter made it easier for stranded survivors to hear and, the reasoning went, signal. The sound of the rotors of this model of helicopter was as much a part of its 'rescue equipment' as the MREs, blankets, and medical equipment that was kept on board.

Major Duffy listened for a call-sign from one of the vehicles. “Whatever happened to the days when police vehicles had their call-signs painted on the roof, like in _Adam 12_?”

“What's _Adam 12_?” Lieutenant Hall gave him a quizzical look.

Duffy just sighed, suddenly feeling very old. And he really wasn't all that old. “There was this TV show when I was a kid. It was originally broadcast during the 60s, but it was on as reruns in the 70s. Cop show. One of my favorite shows when I was growing up. It was about these two beat cops; one was a veteran and the other a rookie. And they had their call-sign, which was 1-Adam-12, painted on the roof so police helicopters would know who they were.” He paused and listened. “Okay, I think I got something.”

One of the vehicles had called another about the helicopters, using a call sign. Duffy waited until the channel was clear, then broke in. “Rescue Victor David 8, this is US Air Force Hotel Flight. Hotel Lead speaking.” He waited for the acknowledgment from the EMT bus before continuing. “We're out of Mountain Home and are under orders to investigate an object that fell out of the sky near here. Can we render any assistance?”

There was a moment as the people in the vehicles below him registered his presence and what he had just told them.

 _“Roger, Hotel Flight. This is Kilo Lima 14; I'm in the Sheriff's Department vehicle. We'll take any assistance you want to give us. There's small groups of cabins all over these mountains. Most are empty except hunting season, but we do have a small population of home-industry silver miners up here all year round. Given the meteor and all, County figured we ought to come up and check, make sure everyone's all right.”_ There was a pause. _“You could see that thing burning through the air for miles, so we figured it was gonna be a big one.”_

“Roger, 14,” Duffy responded. “Understood. Hotel 99 and myself will fly ahead and see what we can see and report back to you.” The Major switched back to his regular frequencies and said, “99, Hotel Lead. Did you copy?”

_“Roger, Lead.”_

“Okay, let's get ahead of the first responders and see if they know where they're going any better than we do.”

There was a chuckle from the other helicopter pilot. _“Roger. That would be nice for a change.”_

**XxxxxxX**

Fifteen minutes later, Lieutenant Mickelson, the pilot of Hotel-99, signaled that they had found something. Major Duffy circled his craft around and came in close, hovering almost nose to nose with the second chopper. Hotel-99 had its spotlight on, panning it across a large crater. The hole in the ground had to be thirty feet deep and at least three times as wide. What had caught the attention of Hotel-99's crew was the halo of expelled rock and dirt surrounding the crater. That led them to the center of the hole. A circle of light as bright as daylight crossed the crater once, twice, and then settled on the center. A few minutes later, Hotel Lead's spotlight did the same. First it scanned the area to make sure they weren't missing something before settling on the center of the hole.

“Well,” Major Duffy said after a moment. “There's something you don't see every day. You seeing this, Mick?”

 _“Yeah, I'm seeing it. Don't believe it, but I'm seeing it.”_ Mickelson's voice was steady. Air Force pilots, even their helicopter pilots, were trained to never lose their cool. It was unlikely that Mickelson's voice would have betrayed any emotion if the man had been on fire.

Lying on her side in the dead center of the crater was the last thing he ever expected to see: a completely nude woman. She had blonde hair, but otherwise Duffy couldn't see any details other than she looked uninjured. This was odd enough. A person falling from the upper atmosphere would have been a charcoal briquette; not to mention smashed to a pulp from the impact. This woman looked unharmed.

 _“I think we're about to disrupt her nap,”_ came Mickelson's voice.

Duffy chuckled. Then he put his radio back on the local emergency channel. “Kilo Lima 14, this is Hotel Lead. We've found what looks like the impact site. We have a crater here approximately ten meters deep by thirty meters wide.” His co-pilot softened the brightness, allowing the projected spot to get wider, if slightly dimmer. “14, it looks like we've got one casualty. We've got two medics with us; we're dropping them into the crater but will await your arrival for further action unless otherwise necessary.”

_“Uh, roger that, Hotel Lead. We can see you guys up ahead. Looks like we'll be there in six or seven minutes.”_

“Six or seven minutes, roger.” Duffy turned his head toward the third man in the chopper. “Okay, Cruz, you're up.” He signaled Hotel-99 and ordered the deployment of their medic.

_“Roger, Lead. Buck is getting prepped as we speak. We were just waiting your word.”_

“Roger. Tell Buck he can deploy as he's ready.” Duffy turned his attention to his crew. Lieutenant Hall had climbed into the back and was helping Cruz rig himself to a rappelling line. The man already had his full kit on his back.

“I got to say, Major, I don't know how much good me and Eddie are gonna be.” Cruz said as he hooked the line to his harness. “Either she was caught in the meteor impact, in which case she ain't walking away from this, or else she was the meteor, in which case she really ain't walking away from this.”

“I get you, Sergeant. But ours is not to wonder why...”

“Yeah, yeah.” The medic grinned at his pilot. “Okay, five seconds on the drop, sir!”

“Five seconds, roger.” Duffy hit his radio. “Mick, tell Buck that Cruz is about to drop. He's going in five, four, three...” the pilot turned his head to see Airman Buck, the other helicopter's medic, drop out of the side door, sliding easily to the ground on the extended line. Trust Buck to want to beat Cruz to the ground. “Okay, Jaime get on the horn to that ambulance crew, make sure they know we have a casualty. They should only be a couple of minutes out by now.” Duffy adjusted his position regarding the other helicopter. The spotlight stayed where it was, but the downdraft from the rotors onto the crater ended. He nodded to himself as he watched Mickelson do the same. “No reason to make it hard for the medics,” he commented to no one in particular.

**XxxxxxX**

Cruz hit the ground just a few seconds after Buck. He unhooked himself from the rappel line and watched as it retracted itself into a reel on the helicopter. Satisfied that the line was no longer flapping loose in the helicopter's downdraft, he did an initial equipment check. It was redundant; he'd checked his gear before dropping out of the helicopter. But the redundant check was habit. Only when he was certain he had all the gear he needed for a triage assessment did he turn toward the body in the middle of the crater.

The two medics did an initial appraisal of the woman, then very gently moved her on to her back. As the senior-ranked medic, Cruz took the lead in reporting back to his pilot. “Okay. We have a Caucasian female, anywhere between fifteen and twenty-one. Hard to say more precise than that. Hard to get a height, what with her laying down, but I'd say she's at least as tall as I am. Muscular. More than usual for a woman. Looks like an athlete, maybe a weight-lifter.” The only reply was acknowledgment of his report. This was his show until the locals arrived, so no one was going to override him or countermand him.

Buck pressed a couple of fingers into her neck just below the jawline, checking for a pulse. He was in that position for longer than usual. His head cocked to one side as he moved his fingers higher on the woman's neck. Then he nodded to Cruz. “Its thready and weak, but it's there. I'd hate to guess what her BP is,” the younger medic reported. That said, the medic began to unlimber the blood-pressure cuff. 

While Buck did that, Cruz began the procedure EMTs sometimes jokingly referred to as 'the rub down;' the careful check for possible broken bones done by gently feeling the limbs, chest, hips and skull with the hands. “No apparent broken bones. We do have heavy bruising on the woman's legs, arms, and chest. Abrasions on her face and extremities. Only minor bleeding and even that appears to have stopped on its own."

“I'm getting no BP read at all, Cruz. Nothing. Needle isn't even ticking over. But I swear, I read a pulse!” Buck unstrapped the cuff and put it back on her. He inflated the cuff, and then released, trying again to read the girl's blood pressure. “Still no reading.”

Cruz felt at the woman's neck. He, too, could feel a weak but steady pulse. “Okay, I got a pulse here, too. Never mind blood pressure for right now. Move on.” He reached into his backpack and pulled an infrared thermometer and stuck the end of it into one of the woman's ears. After a few seconds, it beeped, and he dutifully recorded the result. “Her temp is only 94 degrees. I'm grabbing a blanket and a heat pack.”

Buck nodded and took a penlight and flashed it into her eyes to check responsiveness. “Pupils are dilated but responsive.”

Cruz draped the woman with the bright orange survival blanket, then cracked open a couple of the chemical heat packs and placed them along her body at the standard heat loss points: the groin, the armpits, the hands and feet. He tucked a last one under her neck. He suddenly found himself staring at the woman. She was, to put it crudely, massively mammalian. Cruz shook himself suddenly. _What the hell am I doing?_ This wasn't the first naked woman he'd treated. He checked for signs of breathing, and couldn't find any.

“Buck, grab an inhalator! She's not breathing!” With that, Cruz bent over the woman, straightened her head slightly, opened her mouth, cleared her tongue, took as deep a breath as he could, covered the woman's mouth in his, and exhaled. It was like he was trying to fill an oxygen tank. Her chest didn't even move as he breathed for her, and the effort to force air into her lungs almost made him dizzy. Nevertheless, he did it again, pausing only to motion Buck toward her so he could start chest compressions. As Cruz sat up to get a bigger lungful of air, he noticed that Buck was putting his full weight on the woman's chest and wasn't moving it at all.

At the fifth exhale, he felt something change. The woman inhaled, very slowly, and just as slowly exhaled. He watched, dumbfounded, as the woman didn't breathe at all for what seemed like minutes. And then, like clockwork, she did it again. Slow inhale, slow exhale. “Eddie, stop. She's breathing, but its way slow and shallow. Time this for me.” The two of them watched the second hand on their watches go around nearly four times before the woman took another breath. It stunned them to the point that neither of them noticed when the first responders pulled up.

**XxxxxxX**

To Cruz, it looked like the two County EMTs – their names were Roberta Rush and Frank Webber – were as confused by the situation as he and Buck had been. Cruz had given the two men his report when they arrived, then assisted with placing electrodes for the EKG. The same EKG that was not reading a thing, for some reason. All four medics could feel a pulse; they could tangibly experience proof that the woman's heart was beating, however slowly, and that she was breathing, however slowly. But they were getting no indication of it from the monitor. They did get a result from the finger cuff; it measured pressure changes in the finger, and not the electrical output of the heart. He had watched, amazed, as they wasted three IV starters on the woman, trying to get her started on a saline drip. Nothing they had could penetrate her skin. In the end, the four medics decided that the best they could do was wrap her up and get her to a hospital. Major Duffy had agreed to ferry the woman to Universal Medical Center in Salt Lake City, the closest trauma-rated emergency room.

“Okay, Major, drop the gurney.” Cruz and the other three medics watched as Hall tipped the mobile stretcher out the helicopter's side door, winching it downward.

“Hey! What do you people think you're doing?” It was Zipp, the Tooele County deputy sheriff. Almost as soon as Cruz had spoken to the man, he had decided that this person was a disgrace to his badge. Racial prejudice oozed out of the man's pores. Cruz's reaction to Zipp, whose first name was Arnold or Ardwright or Adolf or something like that. “Son, I can't let you do that.”

It was only made worse by the fact that he kept calling Cruz 'son'. Cruz was proud of his accomplishments in the military and refused to be condescended to anyone. To say that what he really wanted to do was knock this _pendejo jerk-off_ on his ass was understating the situation. “We're moving her to the hospital in Salt Lake City. We can't treat her out here.”

“Say that again, son?”

Gritting his teeth, Cruz repeated what he had said. “There are too many strange things going on. We don't have the equipment to treat her out here. So, we're moving her to a hospital.”

“Strange things? That what you call it? You can't stick a needle in her arm without it bending or breaking, you can't get your electro-whatchamacallit-machine to read her. Not to mention how she fell out of the fucking sky buck-nekkid without getting' kilt! That the strange things you talking about, boy?”

Cruz couldn't help but react. “Do not call me _boy_ and don't call me _son_ , deputy! I am a senior non-commissioned officer in the Air Force. You call me Sergeant, or Technical Sergeant if you must. You call me _boy_ or _son_ one more time, and you and me will have words.”

The deputy looked slightly amused. “Whatever you say, flyboy.” _Oh, he did not just do that!_ “I've already put a word in. SHIELD's gonna want to take a look at your little mutie girl there.”

“Officer,” Cruz began, knowing that deputy sheriffs hated being called 'officer' as much as Air Force personnel hated being called 'flyboy.' “I don't know where you're getting your intel, but we've seen no indication that she's a mutant. That's just supposition on your part.”

“No indication she's a mutant?” The Deputy's grin was cruel and unpleasant. “My fat white ass! How about all those problems you were having with her? How about the fact that she fell out of the sky so hard she made a crater?” The deputy's cruel grin got wider. “What's the matter? Get a good close look at a set of huge tits like that, and suddenly you can't think but with your little head?”

Cruz was suddenly in the other man's face. “You better secure that shit.” He pointed back toward the crater, just to drive the point home. “We don't know who she is, or how she came to be here. But she's still an injured human being, and as such she deserves our respect and our care and does not deserve your pathetic creepy eyes all over her. Do you understand me?”

The Deputy wasn't giving ground at all. His eyes narrowed as he growled, “You'd better take a step back right now, boy, or else I may have to put you in cuffs for attempted assault on a law enforcement officer.”

“Try me, fat man. Try it and see just what happens to you if you try that.” Cruz stared into the man's eyes, hoping he'd get the hint.

The deputy just smirked. “Fine. Whatever. Go take care of your precious mutie girl. Like I said, I've already talked to my Captain, and he's calling SHIELD as we speak, and they'll put her in prison where she belongs.” Cruz almost punched the guy in the teeth just on general principles. If there was one thing that pushed all of Cruz's buttons, it was a bigoted asshole, even if he wasn't all that fond of the group the bigoted targeted himself. And this deputy was a huge, flaming asshole.

Cruz gave the guy up as a bad job and a waste of time. He walked back down the wall of the crater to the rest of the rescue crew. Buck was directing things; Cruz had put him in charge while he had gone to talk to Deputy Douche-Bag. Buck had seen Cruz's face as the senior medic approached. “There a problem?” The look on Cruz's face said it all. “I take it the cop said something untoward?”

“That man apparently has a hard-on for putting mutants in prison just because they were born. He figures she's a mutant because...” Cruz made a motion with his hands mimicking something falling from the sky and smashing into the ground. “Plus, he made a crude remark about her... um...” Cruz put his hands up in front of his chest in the universal male symbol for a well-endowed woman, causing Buck to grin slightly. Cruz dropped his hands and shrugged. “Guy says his superior is on the phone to SHIELD, about her, and that they're likely to meet us at UMC.”

“Well, I don't know if she's a mutant, but she's definitely seen better days.” Rush said as she helped guide the gurney into place. “She's one solid bruise. You know, if she didn't lack the scars I'd wonder where she had her work done. I don't envy her the back problems. My sister wasn't that big and had to get reduction surgery done, she was in so much pain.”

Talk ceased when the gurney hit the bottom of the crater. The four medics moved it until it was as flat as possible and as close as possible to the woman as they could it. Cruz positioned himself at her feet while Webber took her shoulders. “Okay,” Cruz said. “On three. Ready?” At Webber's nod, he counted. “One. Two. Three.” and he lifted. Or rather, he tried his best to lift the woman onto the gurney. She hadn't budged, and Cruz almost dropped her legs. The two medics stopped and straightened up, and Webber grabbed at his back.

“Wow.” Cruz looked down at the woman, then back up to Webber. “What do you think? Four hundred? Maybe five?”

“What's up?” Buck asked.

“She's too heavy for the two of us to move. We're gonna need your help. She's got to be close to five hundred pounds easy.” Cruz moved so he was straddling the woman's knees. “You to get on either side of her.”

“She sure don't look like no five hundred pounds, even with as much muscle as she had on her. I'd have pegged her at one sixty at most, maybe.” Rush moved to the woman's right side as Buck took her left.

“Okay, let's try this again. On three. One. Two.” On three, all four lifted this time, and managed to get her onto the gurney. Buck and Rush began strapping her in as Cruz stretched. Webber stayed bent over for a while.

“Christ Jesus, she's heavy.” was all the man had to say.

With their patient strapped to the mobile bed at the knees, belt-line, and shoulders they put neck brace on her to hold her head still, then used the four-contact pulley to drag the gurney out of the crater.

“Come on.” Cruz took the handle on one end of the gurney. “Let's get her secured in the back of the chopper. Heavy as she is, we don't want her breaking loose and rolling around in the back while we're flying.”

The flight to the hospital was a long forty minutes. The girl never stirred, though her breathing sped up at one point (going from a rather frightening one breath per four minutes to a comparatively Olympian breath per two minutes), but even that 'excitement' had faded swiftly as the woman resumed her slow, almost imperceptible rate of respiration. For the rest of the flight, there was nothing. Just the constant sound of the helicopter's engines and the beep-blooping of the monitor attached to the woman's finger cuff. The flight to the hospital was a long forty minutes.

**XxxxxxX**


	2. And Now For Something Completely Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“What people can and cannot survive comes as a constant shock to people. One man can go to war and be caught in an explosion and seemingly be blown to bits, and he dies sixty years later of old age. Another man can slip and fall on a perfectly smooth linoleum floor and die of a broken neck. And there is absolutely no prediction how things are going to work out, either.” – **Damian Hirst**_

**XxxxxxX**

Doctor Aubrey 'Call Me Dr. Bree' Tolliver flipped from page to page, wondering if she should even try to find a way to stop this. The entire thing smacked of things she thought she was better off not contemplating. The Jane Doe patient had only been in the hospital for two days, and they'd barely scratched the surface with her, when suddenly, the Man showed up waving warrants and writs and other things. And now Jane Doe was going away to some government facility, probably never to see the light of day again.

Lester Herdt, the hospital's director, stood next to her watching as the SHIELD agents packed the girl into what honestly looked like an eight-foot-long silver Tylenol. The tube had a view port that let one see the girl, and one side had a monitor station of some kind, but mostly the thing reminded Dr. Tolliver of an unfired photon torpedo from Star Trek. On the other side of her stood Agent Bart Copella of SHIELD, the man who came armed with court documents. Doctor Tolliver had been an emergency room doctor pretty much full-time since she graduated from UCLA in 1982. She'd found that she thrived from the chaos. And in those two plus decades, she'd thought she'd seen it all. From the woman who managed to swallow three soup spoons, to the man who'd come in complaining he'd cut his finger, only to reveal that he'd cut it _off_ , to the man who had driven himself to the emergency room and checked himself for treatment after somehow shooting himself through the head and surviving. Granted it was a small caliber bullet, but still. Weird, right?

But this high-tech medical kidnapping was a first for her.

“You know, Les, I'm still not sure this is the right thing to do. I mean, she's our patient!”

“Hey, I'm not arguing with you, Doc,” Agent Copella responded in place of the director. “I certainly didn't join SHIELD so I could shove young girls into tubes, you know? I joined to fight the bad guys. But we all must do what we all must do, and right now, I must take her to a SHIELD facility.”

“But why?” She turned toward Copella. “I still don't understand your interest in her.”

“Well, for the most part that's classified. But you know how it is; young girl falls out of the sky, hits the ground hard enough to make a crater. Isn't killed? It's – well, it's the kind of thing we look into. Especially given recent events.” The agent shrugged.

“I do have to admit we don't get many like her on any given day. We just don't know anything about her.” She was fishing, she knew she was fishing, and it was a good bet the agent knew she was fishing. He, unfortunately, wasn't biting. “Where exactly are you taking her? Are you just shoving her in a lab somewhere, or are you taking her to a hospital?”

“Doc, I understand your concern, but I can't answer that question. I can assure you that her medical care is not ending. We do have agents who are fully trained and accredited medical doctors, you know, and they are the ones who will be looking after her from now on.” To his credit, Agent Copella looked honestly embarrassed by the whole mess. The medical technician who was supervising Jane Doe's transport gave Agent Copella the high sign and the team began moving out. Copella turned to the Doctor. His face expressed compassion. “Look, Doc, I'll give you a call when our young lady gets to where she's going. I can't tell you where it's gonna be, but I can at least let you know she's going to be safe and sound, okay?” The agent shook their hands. “You guys have a nice day, now.” And with that, he followed his team out to their vehicle.

**XxxxxxX**

Allan Edgar was a scientifically-minded person. He tried to remain professional and unemotional while pursuing his work because in his opinion that was the best way to stay objective and to get to the truth of the matter. That ideal had served him when he was in medical school, and then later when he got his secondary doctorate in biochemistry. And it was with this attitude that Doctor Edgar approached the problem of the girl. He pulled the non-stick tape from the contact side of the electrodes and placed them, one by one, on the girl's chest. He put two of them just above the beginning swell of her breasts (she'd been laying out naked in front of him for so long that Edgar no longer noticed that she was unclothed; besides, he was a professional, and she was a minor), one just below the sternum, and then two on either side of her abdomen. Doctor Edgar noted the position of the electrodes on his clipboard, took one last glance at the girl, then hit the start button on the electrocardiograph.

He waited a few seconds for the electrodes to begin picking up a signal from the girl's heart. And waited. And waited. And waited.

Nothing.

Frowning, Doctor Edgar looked back at the girl. The cuff on her finger was reading a pulse, but the EKG was blank, as if she had no heartbeat.

 _What is going on?_ He asked himself.

Making a decision, Doctor Edgar approached the girl again and reached toward the electrodes. The most obvious possibility was that the leads had corroded or become abraded or otherwise damaged. Such things happened all the time. So, to fix it, he'd disconnect the leads, get some new ones, and try again. He grabbed the end of the lead, applied slight pressure – and then stood there open-mouthed when the entire electrode, lead and all, came up from the girl's chest as easily as one might take the top post-it note from a stack of blanks.

 _That shouldn't have happened_ , he thought to himself. He knew from personal experience that the adhesive used on medical electrodes was so strong that the least painful method for removing them from one's body was just to wait until they inevitably fell off in a week or two. Actually trying to pull them off -- especially trying to yank them off quickly -- was a good way to tear one's skin open, the glue was so strong. And here one was, coming up as if the girl's skin was made of Teflon. Doctor Edgar gave a very gentle tug on one of the other electrodes. It too came up off the girl's body as easy as you please. So did the third one. He stared at the one remaining electrode before poking a finger at it. The electrode slid across the girl's abdomen, responding to the pressure of his fingers, like a puck on an air hockey table.

“Oh hey, look at that.” He said, curious. “Joyce? Joyce!” He called over his shoulder to his lab partner. “Come here and look at this!” A minute later, he was demonstrating his discovery to the other doctor. “If I'm seeing this right, these aren't actually in contact with her skin. Look!”

The other doctor, Joyce McGeorge, leaned way down until her face was almost touching the girl's body. She carefully pushed the electrode around in a small circle on the girl's form. “I think you're right. I don't think it's actually touching.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “What do you figure? Frictionless skin? Micro-thin force field? Some sort of spatial thing?”

“No idea,” Doctor Edgar grinned like a thief. “But it's pretty cool. I'm going with force field.”

“Think O'Toole will let us wheel his laser in here to test it?” McGeorge couldn't contain her enthusiasm any more than Edgar could.

**XxxxxxX**

“Okay, the eggheads have had a week to figure out everything they could about this girl. What do we know?” Senior Supervisory Agent Lawrence Understone stared at the girl in question through the slightly hazy glass of a two-way mirror. He turned slightly to glance at Bart Copella, his second-in-command. He even raised a single Spock-like eyebrow to enforce the question.

Unfortunately, Copella could only shrug. “Less than you're gonna like, boss, but more than the doctors had back at the hospital in Idaho.” He shuffled through the file. “We did a fingerprint trace and it almost immediately popped up with a file. Karen Melissa Starr of Midvale, Ohio. Population 754 souls. Man, I can't even imagine living in a town that small.”

“Wait! Her name is Karen Starr? Really?” Understone snorted. “Her parents intentionally gave her a stripper name?”

Copella shared in the moment of humor, then continued. “Anyway, let's see: born May 25, 1989, making her all of seventeen years old. Naturally blonde hair --”

“Naturally? How do we know?” Understone asked, knowing what was coming. “Oh, don't tell me.”

“Yep. Carpet matches the drapes, boss. Blue eyes. She's six foot, one and a half inches tall, and she weighs in at five hundred and forty-seven pounds, if you can believe it. She's in good shape, I'll give her that. She's not quite one of those gross female body-builders, but it's clear that she's been working out. She's a big girl, all right.” Copella looked up for a moment and grinned in that sly way that he had. “In more ways than one, you've probably noticed. As far as anyone can tell, those are real, by the way.”

That caused Understone to whistle with incredulity. “And she's only 17? Ouch. I hope she's got a good chiropractor. Her back must be killing her all the damn time.”

“No doubt. Turns out she's a 40-H.” Copella was barely keeping his face straight.

Understone rolled his eyes in exasperation. He pointed through the window at the Jane Doe – Karen Starr, rather. “Can you explain to me, Agent Copella, why on earth anyone in this facility felt the need to actually find out what that underage female's bust size happened to be? Do the words 'civil rights violation' mean anything to anyone around here? Not to mention the phrase 'criminal sexual conduct with a minor?' Does that register on anyone's radar?”

Copella's previous grin vanished in an instant. “Boss, you're absolutely right. I'll talk to whoever it turns out did this and make sure that we're very, very angry with them.”

“No! What you will do is you will find out whichever jackass it was molested a minor to find out how big her tits are and you will have their resignation letter on my desk by 1700 hours. Is that understood?”

Copella nodded, swiftly. “Yes, sir. Their already packed and out of here. They just don't know it.”

Understone gritted his teeth. “Jesus, Bart! That – that's just way too far. I know we don't get a lot of oversight at this place, but everyone here needs to remember that our new boss is a lady and won't appreciate the same old 'Old Boy's Club' bullshit.”

“Sure, boss. I'll make sure the rank and file know.”

Understone just nodded. He took a series of deep breaths. “Okay, what else?

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Copella consulted the file again. “Her pupils are dilated and don't respond to light. That's a change as the EMTs initially reported them responsive. She shows no reaction to loud noises, sharp prods to her extremities, or minor electric shocks. She has one distinguishing scar, on the bottom of her left heel. The Doc who discovered it says it looks more like an inoculation scar or maybe some sort of puncture than anything else. No tattoos; not even the typical teenage tramp stamp all the girls seem to be getting. Let's see... what else. Oh, she's got no dental work, and --”

That one caused Understone to interrupt. “No dental work? How is that possible? I mean, what – is she a conscientious tooth-brusher, she flosses, what? Everyone's got some dental work, Bart.”

“Yeah, that's what the forensic dentist said. Apparently, it is a big deal, boss. According to him, its odd as hell for someone her age to have no dental work. I mean, most of us have at least one filling, right? Oh, the dentist said that she also doesn't have all her adult wisdom teeth yet, which confirms her age.”

“Parents are Fred and Edna Starr. He's a farmer of some sort, while Mom teaches at the local elementary. Girl has a juvie record. That's where the fingerprint match came from.” Understone gave Copella the 'question eyebrow' again, prompting the other agent to continue. “Minor stuff. You know, kids' stuff. Low-value shoplifting, pot possession, a drunk and disorderly connected with a boyfriend's DUI.” At the last one, Understone raised another eyebrow. “Like I said, kid's stuff. And even then, not a whole lot of it. The possession charge was casual use levels. Nothing too desperado.”

Understone had to suppress a laugh. After a week, the only thing he'd heard from the doctors was how utterly confused by this kid they really were. It was obvious she was a superhuman of some kind or other; she did fall out of the sky like a meteor and crash into a mountain without a broken bone or even a scratch. If that didn't scream super-powers, Understone didn't know what did. So here she lay, in his secret SHIELD-controlled medical center, out light a light and only generating more questions. “Typical kid, then?” Understone said finally. He watched the girl in her isolation pod. She was as unmoving as usual for people stuck in the pods. The senior SHIELD agent had to admit that he didn't know a thing about that piece of equipment. It somehow kept the patient pacified by altering its interior atmosphere, while simultaneously reading everything about the patient up to and including their Social Security number. He had no idea how it worked; he had degrees in Political Science, Criminology, and Law, not medicine or in engineering.

“Well, yes and no. The last notation in her juvie record is that she was reported missing by her mother two years ago. Local sheriff decided she was a runaway. The case is still open but no one's put any work on it in close to a year. Guess we found her.” Copella closed the file.

“I'm sure her parents will be relieved. So, what else do we know?”

“Not as much as we should. She's an enigma wrapped in a very pretty mystery. Nothing in her record suggests superpowers prior to her taking a dive into a mountain. No clothing, no cash, no identification, no trace evidence, absolutely no indication of where she's been for the past two years or any hint of what she's been doing all that time.” Copella consulted the file again. “If the fingerprints hadn't panned out, we'd have no idea who this girl was.”

“What do you mean?” Understone turned away from the window.

“Well, DNA testing has failed every time. The tech who ran the test said that her cells are apparently resistant to every DNA test they've thought up so far. They tried to take a blood sample from her arm in case they needed to know her blood type, and every needle they tried to use bent. They even tried to get one from inside her mouth. Same thing happened. One of the doctors tried making a small cut on her arm with a scalpel; the blade wouldn't penetrate her skin. We've contacted Stark Industries and talked to one of their developers over their about getting some adamantium needles and scalpels made up.”

“Well, there goes our budget for the rest of the year.”

“Sorry boss. Anyway, the X-ray tech says the same thing: she apparently reads like she's made of solid metal. Absolutely opaque. MRIs too. They won't penetrate. One of the techs is trying to figure out a way to get her under a – ” he consulted the chart. “-- something called a 'scanning tunneling electron microscope' that apparently uses a stream of subatomic particles to look at really small things, just to see what would happen.”

“So, what, the doctors don't know anything about her?”

“Not quite, boss. Not quite.” Copella closed the file again and stared at the girl in the tube. “Blood pressure sensors are doing just fine. They read as slightly low, but within the range for a healthy person of her age and gender. We can read her heartbeat from the flutter in her fingers caused by her pulse. Again, its low, but within normal range. We can tell how often she breathes from the rise and fall of her chest, and from air movement in the tube. She doesn't breathe anywhere near as often as normal. We can tell her body temperature from an infrared meter. Lower than normal.” Copella shrugged. “Everything else, it's like she's a block of granite, boss.”

“That would explain her weight,” Understone said vaguely.

“Yeah. That does remind me – one of the lab techs thinks that she actually has a skin-tight force field. According to this guy, when he tried to put electrodes on her chest, he noticed that they didn't quite touch her skin. He showed me a couple of images, but I didn't see it. Who knows, maybe he's right.”

“That would be interesting. Do we have any actual proof of that, though?” Understone was trying to discourage wild speculation.

“No real proof, no. Doctor Edgar wanted to put her under a high-powered laser, but I vetoed that as soon as I heard of it.”

“Good call.”

“One more thing, boss. Doctor McGeorge thinks we should take her out of the pod permanently. She says it's not doing us or the girl any good.”

That got Understone's attention. “And her justification?”

“According to Doctor McGeorge, the girl is metabolizing the anesthetic gas we're using to keep her under.” Copella grinned at the expression on Understone's face. “Yeah, she's apparently breathing it in, absorbing part of it, metabolizing that part, and exhaling a changed chemical mix of the air and the anesthetic. Doctor McGeorge says that it's likely that the girl is immune to it and her body is treating it as just another part of the air to be breathed.”

“Which means all we're doing is wasting the knock-out gas on someone not affected by it?” At Copella's nod he sighed. “Great. So we're not keeping the girl out, she's just not waking up for some reason. Do the doctors have any idea why she's unconscious?”

“Might have something to do with slamming into a mountain at a couple hundred miles an hour.”

“Yeah, that would do it.” Understone laughed at that thought. It was, after all, obvious. “Okay, approved. Get her out of the pod, find her a room, and put her in a bed. We might as well make her comfortable while she's here. Who knows, maybe she'll wake up.”

Copella agreed and turned to leave, but he was brought up short by Understone's next words. “She's not registered, and she has super-powers; hopefully she'll play smart. Otherwise, we'll be shipping her off to the Gulag.” Understone's entire demeanor soured. He hated the Gulag. Hated it with a passion. “Make sure she's under restraint. As dense and heavy as she is, I wouldn't be surprised if she was superhumanly strong to some level.” The cuffs and cables they used as restraints were all made of secondary adamantium, and were fitted with motion detectors. They'd hold the girl and let them know if she moved in any unusual ways. Well, unusual for an unconscious person, that is. The power dampener had been designed by a mutant genius called Forge, for just such occasions as these.

“You think she's about to wake up, boss?”

Understone snorted. “I have no fucking clue, but I would think we would want to be careful, just in case. This girl did survive pancaking into the ground, after all.”

“Right. We'll get the cuffs on her, and then she won't be going anywhere without our letting her do it.”

“Okay, good. Good. That's good.” Understone glanced quickly at his second in command. “By the way, Bart. Just asking, nothing really important at all. But do we have any reinforced beds? Because I have a sudden image in my head of her tearing down a corridor, trying to escape, chained to a broken off chunk of hospital bed with invulnerable shackles.”

To Understone, the fallen look on Bart Copella's face made up for the earlier anger and aggravation.

**XxxxxxX**

And while he slept, Xander Harris dreamed.

 

 _Xander banked left. He barely noticed the temperature of the air as he cut through it like a missile. One arm was held straight in front of him, the other was at his side. It was just an affectation; Clark had once told him that he used to use that pose to make sure he had a sight-line on the horizon, but that never seemed to make sense to Xander. A flash of color caused him to look to his left. Buffy was there, dressed in her usual red, gold, and blue. The gold of the eagle on her chest drew Xander's eyes to her bust line, as if it were designed to do so. He heard her cough and mutter,_ “Eyes up here, Xander” _and abruptly shifted his gaze._

_On his other side, he heard Willow's voice admonishing him for being a guy, and for having a guy's customary obsession with mammary glands. He shot a grin at Willow, who was surrounded by the glowing green nimbus generated from her power ring. Xander never really understood why Willow insisted on wearing a mask. Its not like Buffy wore one. Neither did he, for that matter._

_In any case, it was time to get down to business. Brainiac wasn't going to defeat himself. He dove toward the ground and suddenly found himself sitting in a white wicker chair. There were four other identical chairs, each inhabited by a woman in a wedding gown. One gown was white, one was black, and one was red. The woman in the white wedding gown pushed her veil up and away from her face, and it was Buffy. Buffy took a sip from the china cup in her hand._ “There will always be a Brainiac, Xander. I think its more important that we get Miss Calendar's homework assignment finished."

_The woman in black raised her veil, and the look on Willow's face ended the argument. Xander could never argue with Resolve Face. He picked up his teacup and took a sip. It was grape soda. Grape soda had always been Walter O'Reilly's favorite._

_The woman in red revealed herself to be Cordelia Chase._ “I find it endlessly fascinating how your instincts are so highly attuned when it comes to boring old evil, but you have yet to make any mention these fabulous new shoes.”

 _One by one, the girls stood and kissed him. Not the usual friendly peck on the cheek, but the kind of kiss he'd always dreamed about experiencing but never had. The Bogart and Bacall style kiss. The kind of kiss you always dreamed Cyd Charisse giving you after that climactic dance number. And when they were done, Buffy and leaned to whisper into his ear. It tickled._ “You think you know who you are, what's to come.” _Straightening up, she tapped him on the chest._ “You haven't even begun.”

 _Xander looked down at the hole that appeared in the middle of his body. He could see light through it. The thought made him angry for some reason._ “You know, people have always asked me why I have this hole right here.” _He brought a hand up in a poor attempt to cover it._ “They think I'm showing off, or just being lewd. But the first time I made this costume, I wanted to have a symbol, like you. I just couldn't think of anything. I thought, eventually, I'd figure it out and close the hole. But I haven't.”

“The problem with substituting an idea for your self is that eventually the idea becomes yourself. When you stare into an abyss, the abyss also stares into you.” _Cordelia sang. She clapped her hands, and everything went white._

 _Buffy's voice, coming out of nowhere._ “We need to know what we are going to do when the time comes.”

 _But this Xander could answer._ “We do the same thing we've always done. Save the world.”

 _Willow overturned her cup and a thick, red liquid oozed from it onto the ground._ “Sometimes the world doesn't want to be saved.”

**XxxxxxX**

And while he slept, Xander Harris dreamed.

_Xander slouched over to where Willow and Buffy were talking, trying very hard to not project just how angry and humiliated he was feeling. Behind him, Cordelia and her pack of assistant sociopaths were giggling at him. He felt an inch tall, but a bet was a bet and he was a man of his word. He would not let Cordelia Chase, of all people, see how thoroughly she had got the better of him, even while she was in the midst of getting the better of him._

“Hey there, Xan-Man!” _Buffy's smile was bright and uplifting and usually made Xander feel miles better about himself. She was the one girl he knew who considered him as a person without any sort of preconceived notions. Even Willow, sad to say, approached Xander with some idea of what he ought to be like instead of how he really was. It was one of the reasons why Xander was in love with Buffy. Oh sure, he knew he didn't have a chance with her, and deep inside he'd admitted it. But every time she smiled at him, he felt that maybe, somewhere in the future maybe, he still might be able to convince her._ “You know, it's a lovely thought, but I don't think you're going to get the chance.” _Buffy said casually._ “It's too bad, really.”

“Yeah, Xander. Really too bad.” _Willow gave him a look that was entirely inappropriate for two people who considered each other to be siblings. Of course, he knew Willow didn't want to look at him as a sibling, but he'd grown up with Willow as his sister. It was way too late to change now._

“So, what costume did you get?” _Before Xander could resist, Buffy had the bag out of his hands and open. She stared, open-mouthed, at the white leotard, the blue boots, the blue gloves, the gold belt. That was bad enough. But then she had to go and pull the gag boobs out of the bag._ “Really? Is there something you wanted to tell us, Xander?” _He could feel his face turning the same shade as cooling lava._

“I lost a bet with Cordelia, and this is her idea of a joke. If I won, I got to pick her costume. If she won, she got to pick mine. Cordelia is She of the Winning, and I am He of the Utter Humiliation.”

 _Willow pulled the gag butt out of the bag._ “Who is this supposed to be, anyhow?” _She dropped the appliance back in the bag, only to pull the blonde fright wig out._

“Power Girl.” _The girls responded to this revelation with nothing but a blank look._ “You know... Power Girl? Superman's cousin? Kryptonian maid of might? She of the really huge – ” _He held his hands cupped in front of his chest, bouncing them up and down quickly. Buffy's expression immediately turned dark and menacing._ “– tracts of land?” _Xander finished weakly. Willow and Buffy just stared at him._

 _Willow coughed, lightly, and asked,_ “Isn't Superman's cousin called Supergirl?”

 _Xander's surprise must have been visible on his face, because Willow swiftly added,_ “Hey, I occasionally paid attention when you'd start lecturing about superheroes, buster! And besides, I know I've seen pictures of a girl dressed like Superman. She's got this tight little leotard and a headband and this mini-skirt that shows off her... I'm going to shut up now." _Willow's blush was tangible._

“This is Superman's other girl cousin.” _Still a blank stare from Willow. Buffy nodded in support, apparently familiar with the character, but Willow had no clue._ “Never mind.”

“Xander, the point is you're letting Cody humiliate you,” _Buffy said._ “I thought you were done with being her tackling dummy.”

“Yeah, but a bet is a bet. I'm not a welsher.” _He shrugged at Buffy, who still looked like she wanted to strangle someone._ “Hey, don't be mad at me,” _Xander smiled in an attempt to deflect the anger._ “As you said, this is all Cordelia's fault. She bought the costume for me.”

"You don't have to do this, Xander. You're not a source of entertainment for a bunch of stuck up, fashion-obsessed cretins.” _Buffy clearly was going to be talking to Cordelia sometime soon about this. For his part, Xander just wished she would leave it alone. Buffy put her costume on the counter and paid the man behind the counter. It confused Xander for a moment to realize that the man selling the costumes wasn't Ethan Rayne, but rather a tall balding man with glasses with what looked like sliced cheese in one hand._

“Come on, Buff... I made the bet fair and square, and she's just lucky she's not going to be dressed like a Saudi Arabian elementary-school teacher. I gave my word, so I have to put up with some painful humiliation. It'll pass. It always does.”

“Why a Saudi Arabian school teacher?” _Willow asked. She hopped up on the library counter, picked up one of the books there, and started randomly flipping through it. On the cover was a picture of a man with faces on either side of his head._

“Have you seen the typical Halloween costume she usually wears each year? Total slut-o-rama.” _Xander grinned._ “I was going to have her wear a burqa. You know, covered up from her hair to her toes with only her eyes showing.”

“That would have been fun to watch. If you won, that is.” _Willow seemed to sadden._ “Its too bad you didn't, because I'm really going to miss you, Xander. Especially around Halloween.”

“Don't worry, Wills. I'm not really going anywhere. I'll still be here, because she will still be here.” _As he spoke, all the color faded out, like an old movie. Xander's vision faded, like a picture being projected into too much light. The school library had been replaced by a great empty white space all lit up like the sun. At first, Xander thought he was alone, but there were two other people there. One was a muscular woman with blonde hair. The other was a gigantic, swarthy-looking man with two faces on his head. The man said,_ “Your strength and your weakness are twins in the same womb.” _He picked Xander up in his left hand, and the woman in his right._

_And then Xander was falling out of the sky._

**XxxxxxX**

**Six Months After Impact**

 

Ever since the time he started assisting Buffy in her duties as the defender of humanity against the creatures of darkness, Xander Harris had become somewhat of an expert in the best way to wake up after being rendered unconscious. And there were a few moments when the circumstances under which he'd been knocked out this time were mysterious, as he couldn't really remember them. Those times required caution. So rather than waste any time wondering how it was that he'd been knocked out, he concentrated on the fact that he had a headache roughly the size of a supertanker and painful enough to drop a _Tyrannosaurus rex_ in its tracks. Some vile, cruel person was driving thick, blunt, rusty spikes into his head through his ears. His nose burned with some awful chemical stench. His body felt as if it had been dipped in iron filings and then wrapped in burning sandpaper. In the short moment he opened his eyes, that same mysterious person with the rusty spikes dumped a gallon of hydrochloric acid into them. The sensory stimulus was overwhelming, frightening, confusing, and agonizing, and Xander soon found himself unconscious again.

The second time he regained consciousness, the pain continued at first. But very gently, a soft voice that wasn't really a voice more than it was just an instinctual set of instructions began telling him how to turn the volume down on everything. First his ears cleared of the endless cacophony. Then the horrible combination of odors coming from all around him subsided. The burning sandpaper and iron filings were replaced on his skin by something cool and soft. And lastly, his eyes; they took the most effort, but eventually the light coming through his eyelids no longer burned out his optic nerves.

Xander immediately called to mind the procedures he'd jokingly labeled the 'Unconsciousness Protocols.' They were a set of simple steps devised to figure out where one was when one returned to consciousness, as well as assess any potential threats in the surrounding areas. Step one was easy. He kept his eyes closed while hoping no one noticed he was awake while he surreptitiously checked out his surroundings. It took a moment, because his body felt odd. Like he was off-balance and whirling, despite lying flat and still on something that felt suspiciously like a bed. He felt heavy and clumsy, even more so than usual. As if his bodily proportions were off. His kinesthetic senses were awry, though Xander would never have been able to describe it in that fashion. It took him a moment to figure out the where's and whyfore's and get used to the odd off-balanced feeling enough for him to continue to step two.

Step two was harder: checking out your surroundings and hopefully determining where you were without letting anyone know you were awake. Xander kept his eyes closed and simply listened for a moment. The noisy hum of the machinery in the room with him, plus the annoying beeps and doops coming from some of them, punched into his awareness and he fought for a moment to concentrate past them. Almost as quickly as he started concentrating, the hums and beeps faded into the background. He just as quickly picked up the sound of heartbeats. Six of them. Two weren't all that far away. The other four were slightly more distant. They weren't particularly rapid, so he figured the people who owned the heartbeats were calm. He could hear the muffled sounds of conversation as well; nothing too exciting. Comments about a game, what was going to be had for dinner, how the kids were, and so on.

 _Wait just a cotton-picking minute!_ he thought to himself. _How the hell am I hearing heartbeats? What the hell is going on?_

Xander opened his eyes in surprise and was immediately blinded again. It wasn't as bad as before, but it was still a little much. The world was too bright and awash in strange colors and patterns and for a moment Xander was certain he was going crazy. He blinked, trying to figure out exactly what it was he was seeing. All of the electronics in the room were glowing red and white and green all at the same time. There was a silver sleet falling through the ceiling of the room. From the fluorescent light came a veritable rainbow of colors. He looked to the windows on the wall to the right and the sunlight was breaking apart into a spectrum. More colors than Xander had ever seen were suddenly before his eyes. His eyes. He closed them, almost willing everything to return to normal, and when he re-opened his eyes, everything had.

Carefully, he lifted his hands to look at the shackles chaining him to the bed. That they were shackles was obvious enough, despite their high-tech look. They surrounded his wrists and moved up his arms almost to his elbows, and had some sort of electronic thingy along the top of his arm. Solid plates of metal a good four inches long, and padded with some soft plastic foam so he could not rub himself raw on them. A pair of dull silvered cables led from the shackles to a point under the bed. And a row of small green lights followed the curve of his wrist. As he moved his hands, a few of the green lights flickered red for a moment before settling back to green.

Noticing these lights made him notice his wrists and hands. They seemed off to him, being both slenderer and more muscular than his wrists and hands normally were, all at the same time. They weren't his hands; it was as simple as that. The idea that he had someone else's hands was unsettling. It was a clue that something really, really bizarre was going on.

Unbelievably, it was only then that Xander noticed that he had breasts.

It was only then that Xander noticed that he had breasts.

Xander noticed that he had breasts.

He had breasts.

Breasts.

From his vantage point, looking down on them from his eye level, they looked like standard female-style boobs. Covered in a white sheet, then the thin layer of the hospital gown he was dressed in.

These didn't seem to be man-boobs a guy might develop after sitting around on his couch watching game shows while eating too many cookies and cheeseburgers. No, these were the type of thing Xander pictured whenever he used to go looking for his Dad's skin magazines. They were the entire point of eating shitty, overcooked and under-seasoned wings at Hooters. They were the reason to sneak out to the living room in the middle of the night to watch Cinemax.

Breasts. Tits. Boobs. Bazooms. Melons. Wahwahs. Sweater puppies. Tatas. Knockers. Chesticles. Funbags. Jugs. Hooters. Dirtypillows. Honkers. Hooters. Gazongas.

They were there. He had them.

Intentionally, Xander shifted in his bed, back and forth, to cause the boobs he was looking at to move under their cloth covering. They did move, and while moving they felt like they were physically attached to his chest and everything.

At first, it didn't connect.

It didn't connect at all.

He poked the one on the left with a finger, causing it to dimple in slightly under the pressure of his finger. It resumed its natural shape when he removed his finger. It had been soft, and pliable and squishy, and it pretty much felt just like he always imagined a boob would feel, once he had a chance to feel one, an event he'd been looking forward to for a long time. Oh sure, there was that one time with Willow, but they were both six, and at that point his boobs had technically been larger than hers, so it wasn't like it had counted.

It still hadn't connected. His reaction to it all boiled down to, _Huh. Where did these come from?”_

Awkwardly, because his arms were still chained to his bed, Xander reached up and pulled the neck of the hospital gown away and peeked, sort of sideways, at the breasts. They were a milky shade of cream that matched the rest of the surrounding skin, with wide, pale pink aureoles and small nipples that reminded him of pencil erasers. They were, in his opinion, pretty damned impressive. He slid his hand up and over the one on the right (and somewhere inside his head, there arose the secret fear that the girl who these were attached to was about to slap him for feeling her up). They were not only real, they were really-real.

And then it hit him.

Xander abruptly bolted upright in his bed, crying out in terror. He couldn't pull his eyes away from these... these... he couldn't force himself to say the word. _Holy shit! I have tits! Where the fuck did I get tits!?! How the fuck did I get tits!?! I'm a guy! A guy isn't supposed to have fucking tits! Only girls had_ \-- The thought stopped in his head and his vision contracted, like he was staring down a tube. With the same awkward movements that let feel himself up, he moved one of his hands down, under his hospital gown, to the place where his legs met his torso. He was terrified of what he wasn’t going to find when his hand reached its destination. And indeed, he found exactly what he hoping he wouldn’t. Or rather, he didn’t find what he was hoping he would. Accent on _**DIDN'T**_. Something that, being a guy, he'd always thought was vastly important, was suddenly missing.

Later, when he was looking back on this situation, Xander Harris could honestly say that his reaction to finding out that he was now physically a girl was entirely justified, natural, and to be expected. He cried out, “I'm a girl!” and had just enough time before he fainted to realize that the voice coming from his mouth was higher and more girly than the one he was used to using.

**XxxxxxX**


	3. Go to Bed Dead and Yet Wake Up Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_"The only way to truly kill freedom is in small, unnoticeable cuts, not huge bleeding wounds." - **Justice Felix Frankfurter**_

**XxxxxxX**

Not far from the bed in which Xander Harris lay unconscious, Agent Calvin Henry of SHIELD sat a desk, reading a copy of _Field and Stream_ magazine. The cover article was entitled 'Dove Hunting Etiquette.' Agent Henry had never been dove hunting. He'd hunted deer since he his father first took him that winter of his 15th year. He'd also gone on a bear hunt once. But never dove hunting. He couldn't imagine that it would be as exciting than a bear hunt – there was in inherent danger in hunting bears in that sometimes the bears decided to start hunting you, after all – but it did look like it had its own challenges, what with doves being small and fast-moving. Birds that were hard to shoot sounded like fun.

He wasn't technically supposed to be reading on the job, but absolutely no one with any sort of authority really cared. Over the course of who knew how many shifts, on many different days over the six months since they brought the girl in, Agent Henry had discovered that the primary feature of this job was boredom. The girl he and the rest of his team were guarding had been out cold for the entire time. Agent Henry was willing to put real money on her ending up some sort of vegetable, if it wouldn't have earned him a serious reprimand. It wasn't that he was callous or mean-spirited. It was just that like a lot of veteran law enforcement officers, he was very much jaded and cynical.

A reprimand was the last thing he needed. He liked his job; he certainly enjoyed it more than he liked his short tenure with the FBI. He was smart enough to know that pulling something as monumentally stupid as laying a bet that a hospital patient would end up being permanently brain damaged or something was the kind of shit that got you dismissed on ethics charges, or worse. Or worse, got you not only fired but prosecuted, like that dumb bastard Lawery, who had snuck into the girl's room, took a bunch of pictures of her lying there all naked, and then tried to sell them to a porn website. Moron. Lawery had apparently missed the memo that the girl was jail-bait, and nothing ends a life like a conviction for manufacturing kiddie porn. Lawery had ended up with a well-deserved one-way ticket to a twenty-five-year vacation in Leavenworth, and _everyone_ knew what happened to short-eyes in prison.

For a while, back when Agent Henry began this assignment, he'd idly wondered off and on just who the girl was. All he'd ever figured out was her name, some basic biographical info, and her exact status ( _temporary medical custody pending further determination_ , whatever the heck that meant), but everything else about the girl was being restricted. Through scuttlebutt he'd found out that she was some new and unknown superhuman, and that, apparently, her skin was impenetrable, but that was it.

He'd heard from Carol Dunleavy, the agent who'd accompanied Assistant Supervisory Agent Copella to the girl's home in Ohio, that when they were informed that the girl had been found her parents had wigged out. Her mother started crying and her father had told Copella and Dunleavy that the girl was 'no longer welcome' at the family farm. Agent Henry thought that was a little sad. He'd lost both his folks in a plane crash when he was not too much older than the girl. That was bad enough, having your folks taken away like that, but being told that she no longer had a home and her folks didn't want her. Maybe it would be better for her if she didn't wake up.

He continued reading his magazine in silence. The article about hunting doves had turned into an article about the comparative value of crossbows. He'd never used a crossbow when hunting, and the article interested him. He was so involved in the article that when the monitoring system at his desk started beeping, the noise surprised Agent Henry so much that he dropped his magazine. He sat there in shock for several seconds. The alarm hadn't ever gone off after it was tested, way back when the girl was first brought in. He mastered his surprise and carefully studied the video monitor. It was a live feed, so if there was anything going on in the room...

_There. Did she just move? Was she... did she look like she was in a different position than usual?_

Agent Henry leaned forward and pressed a button, speaking into the microphone on the desk. "Medical team to room 308, please. Security team to room 308 please. Doctor Darby, your patient is awake." He pressed an additional button and said, "Agent Dunne, check your primary, please? We just had something register on her restraints and it looks like she's moved. Might be nothing, but take a look, okay?"

"Roger, Calvin," Dunne responded over her radio. "Did you say it looked like she has moved? Coma patients don't move around like people who are asleep. You sure?"

"Positive. She's in a different position. Gather up the doctor; he's going to want to check her over before you do your initial interview."

Agent Henry waited until he got confirmation from Agent Dunne, the senior member of the security team assigned to watch over the girl. Then he went back to his reading. He was going to try to talk his wife into going dove-hunting with him. She might complain at first, but he remembered that, way back when he took her fishing for marlin that one time, she eventually started having fun with it and later actually got enthused. The same thing would likely happen again this time.

**XxxxxxX**

Waking up the third time was much, much more abrupt for Xander than the first time had been. Despite the utter chaos of sensory overload and the heavy weight of suddenly being awake after months in a coma, the first time Xander woke up he'd slid into a sort of easy, slow wakefulness. It had happened a step at a time – in quick succession to be sure – but it had still been a step at a time. The second time he awoke, maybe four minutes later, was as sudden and jarring as a car crash. His senses were haywire again, but he listened to the little voice in the back of his head that told him how to turn the volume down on the rest of the world. But it still felt as if someone opened his head and poured a bucket of ice water into it. And then there was the nightmare of suddenly being female, which stressed him back into unconsciousness.

But the third time was much easier. Much smoother.

Xander knew, even before he opened his eyes, that there were other people in the room with him; five of them. He knew this as sure as he knew his own name. He could hear their heartbeats and smell the faint acrid odor of their sweat and feel the slight increase in air temperature that each one of them was causing with their body heat. He could even tell that two of them were closer to him than the others, and that one was close enough to reach out and touch. Naturally the five other people in the room were the first thing that he paid attention to, though they weren't what consumed the whole of his attention. What consumed his attention, at least at first, was the fact that he was still, apparently, a girl. He still had a pair of boobs, big ones; his chest felt odd, heavier, unwieldy because of them, and their weight, while negligible, was something he couldn't help but notice.

_Is this how girl's felt all the time?_ And his – his – he couldn't say it. Not even to himself. He couldn't even force himself to use one of the dozens of childish euphemisms he and Jesse had carefully memorized while they were growing up together. The terms just would not enter his conscious mind. But even so, it wasn't there. Still. That entire part of his body felt weird. Certain sensations that he knew he should be feeling weren't being felt because that was missing. For some reason, it embarrassed him. Internally, in his head, where his mind lived, he was a guy. He knew he was a guy. It was one of the unchangeable laws of the universe.

_Alexander Lavelle Harris – Guy. A man among men. He loved sports and looking at women and drinking beer and spitting and scratching himself in public and burping!_

Well.

Actually.

If he were to be truthful, he didn't mind participating in the occasional touch-football game, and he wasn't a half-bad swimmer – he was an excellent swimmer, to be honest – but most other sports left him cold. The most beer he'd ever had in his life was when his alcoholic father Tony pushed an open can into his hands and said, "Every kid needs to have a sip when they get to be eight." He hadn't liked it much, and after living with Tony the Lush he was fairly comfortable with the idea of never drinking again. Burping and spitting and scratching, as any guy could tell you, just weren't the thrills that they were made out to be.

On the other hand, when it came to the ladies, well...

He couldn't deny he liked to look at them but lately he'd concluded that merely being pretty wasn't enough for him. _Harmony Kendall had been proof of that. Very pretty girl; beautiful even. Cover-model beautiful. Also, a complete and total bitch, so thanks, but no thanks._

The fact that he was failing the guy test further embarrassed him.

_So yeah. Internally, I'm still a guy. Externally, though... Externally, I feel like... I feel like..._

_Well?_

He didn't know what he felt like because it all felt weird. He supposed this was what girls felt like. _No, that thought is running into bad directions._ And he knew that he didn't want to feel his – _No, stop! That wasn't any better._

Okay.

So.

He was a girl, and it was weird, and he didn't know how to feel like a girl.

_No._

_Stop._

Embarrassed by his own embarrassment, he slowly opened his eyes.

The five people turned out to be four women and a man. Three of the women were dressed in what Xander was assuming were uniforms since they were nearly identical. Their outfits were all dark-colored, and all carried the same insignia and patches, hence uniforms. Of the man and the last woman, he was wearing a white lab coat over a business-shirt-and-tie combination, while she was wearing one of those merrily multicolored smocks Xander had come to associate with nurses.

The doctor was leaning over him. One of the man's hands was reaching toward Xander's face, while the other held some sort of short metal wand. Xander pulled back as far as he possibly could; he wasn't so much surprised by the man's presence as he was by the man's actions. The doctor reaching for his face had startled and scared him a moment. Obligingly, though, the doctor stepped back a pace and smiled. _Nice, pleasant doctor's smile,_ Xander thought to himself. _Designed to keep the patient calm and cooperative._ It was, in Xander's opinion, a smile engineered to make a patient feel relieved.

Of course, the three imposing, scary people who were so obviously some sort of military standing by the door killed whatever relief Xander might be feeling at a friendly doctor's smile. They were each watching Xander like hawks, and each wore some fancy-looking high-tech pistol on their hips. The guns alone were proving to be the opposite of 'relieving.'

"Ah, and there you are. You're awake! That's great!" The doctor spoke using that assured-yet-kindly doctor's tone, again engineered to make a patient feel perfectly at ease. It was likely the same tone of voice the doctor used to tell cancer patients they only had a day and a half to live or something.

"Uh, ri'wake." Xander tried to force himself to relax, but again the ladies near the door with the honking big guns were a bit unnerving. His voice was a scratchy croak. And it – it was weird! “Wake." He tried again. It was difficult getting his mouth to work. He obviously had been out for a while. And was that his voice? How could that be his voice? He'd never had the absolute deepest of voices, but his speaking voice certainly wasn't made of the higher-pitched sounds he was creating now. Xander, of course, had no idea what a tenor or a mezzo-soprano was but if he did, he'd certainly have pointed out that he normally was the first, and not the second.

"Okay, good to know." The doctor gave the 'nothing to worry about' smile again, and it broke Xander out of his musings about his voice. "My name is Mark Darby. I'm one of the doctors here, and I've been supervising your care. This is Susan." The doctor indicated the woman wearing the multicolored smock. "She's been your long-term-care nurse."

"Long term care?" Xander asked. It still came out a little croak-like. His confusion at the situation was apparent and tangible.

The reassuring smile faded a bit. "Um. Yes. You've been with us since October. You've been in a coma. I take it you don't remember how you got here?" When Xander indicated that he didn't with a shake of his head, the doctor glanced at the nurse, who scribbled something down on the thing in her hands.

"You may find that your throat is too dry and scratchy to talk very well, so do your best. And if you need a drink of water, we can get you some." The doctor sort of nodded vaguely in the direction of a thin, strip-like rolling table that held, among other things, a bedpan, a water pitcher, and a short stack of clear plastic cups.

The doctor held up the small wand-like object he had in his hands. Xander could see it was just a fancy-looking penlight. "I need to check your pupil response and a couple of other things, if that's okay. None of this will hurt, I assure you. And while I'm doing this, Susan is going to ask you a couple of questions, just to make sure you're okay and you're not suffering any problems from being unconscious for so long. Okay?" The man smelled of cigarettes, lots of them. Almost like he'd bathed in cigarette smoke before coming in. The smell almost made Xander vomit, but within moments it was gone.

Xander just nodded and held his head still while the doctor repeatedly shined a light in first one eye, then the other. He'd noticed that no one had answered his question, but for a moment he was too busy looking at the device the nurse was working with. It reminded him of one of those data pads used by the crew of the USS Enterprise on _Star Trek: The Next Generation_. He knew that the presence of this real-life datapad should have clued him in to something, but now all he could think about was how cool the thing was.

"Can you tell me your name, sweetie?" Nurse Susan smiled at Xander as she asked.

"Zahn-" Xander croaked. Without thinking he pulled one of his hands up toward his throat, only for the hand to come to a sudden and abrupt stop because of the shackle. He looked at the shackles in disgust, then turned that same exasperated look toward the guards near the door. The guards, for their part, didn't so much as react.

"Oh, sorry about that. Let me get you some water." The nurse, Susan, poured some ice water into one of the cups, then popped a bendy straw into it. "There you go." The nurse seemed nice enough, but Xander could smell the tuna that the woman had eaten recently. Obviously the nurse hadn't had a chance to brush her teeth after she ate. The stench of the fish almost made Xander recoil, but within moments it had faded into the background.

"Okay." The nurse put the cup of water back on the table. "Let's try that again. Can you tell me your name?"

"Xander Harris." Xander's voice was still a bit on the croaky side, but it was at last working. He coughed lightly from the sensation. It was like he really needed to clear his throat, but there was nothing in the way of it being clear. And it was still freaky to hear that voice come out of his throat. He just wasn't supposed to sound that way.

"I'm sorry, did you say, 'Zander?'"

Xander nodded. "Its a nickname. My name is actually 'Alexander', but all my friends call me Xander." He coughed again, then finished. "Only my folks or teachers that hate me call me Alexander."

"We'll talk about that in a minute honey." The nurse looked at her Star Trek pad, then at the doctor. “Did you say that your name is 'Alexander?' Like the boy's name?"

"Well yeah 'like the boy's name.' What do you expect?" Xander raised his hands as high as he could, then dropped them back onto his lap. This promptly reminded him of why they might question is use of a boy's name. _Oh. Yeah. That. To them, I'm just some girl._

"Okay. Alexander, then. And you say your friends call you Xander. That's interesting. I would have thought it would be 'Alex', right?" Nurse Susan smiled. "What do I know? Okay, Xander. Can I call you Xander?" At Xander's nod, she continued. "Okay, Xander, do you have a middle name?"

That caused Xander to gloom up. "Yes, I have a middle name." He didn't say anything else.

"I'm going to lower your head, okay?" The doctor asked, just before lowering Xander's head. That was one of his pet peeves: people who asked you if it was okay to do something and then just did it without waiting for you to give your permission. "Now, um, Xander, I need to listen to your chest, so I'm going to pull your gown down just a little. Don't worry, I'm not going to uncover you or anything."

The doctor moved Xander's hospital gown out of the way, just enough like he said he would, and then started using his stethoscope to listen. It hadn't occurred to Xander to worry about having his chest exposed to the air before. It took him a moment to realize that suddenly having boobs would mean that people treated him like he had boobs. _How long is this freak-show going to last?_ he asked himself.

The nurse had waited until the doctor had started listening when she prompted Xander. "You say you do have a middle name?"

"Yes." Xander just nodded, once.

The nurse looked at him, expectantly. After a short staring contest, Xander finally conceded the fight. "Fine. Its Lavelle. L-A-V-E-L-L-E. It was my mother's maiden name. Could I have another sip of water?"

The nurse complied, and while Xander was drinking she asked her next question. "How old are you Xander?"

"Seventeen. I'll be eighteen in January."

"Oh yeah? My birthday is in January. I'm the twenty-seventh. How about you?" The nurse smiled at him, still scribbling on her datapad.

"The twelfth."

Nurse Susan gave Xander another smile. "Okay, Xander. Can you tell me where you're from? What town you were born in?"

"I'm from California. Sunnydale. Sunnydale, California. On the coast, about an hour and a half northwest of LA."

The doctor stopped poking and prodding. "Okay, well, I'm done. It looks like you're okay. I'd advise taking it easy when they finally let you get up and walk around. You're out of practice, so you might be wobbly." He took the datapad from the nurse and tapped on it in several places, then began scribbling himself. After a moment, he handed it back, then turned to Xander.

"Well, uh, _Xander_ ," To Xander it seemed the doctor was putting special emphasis on his name. "It's been nice talking to you. I'll be around to check on you and to keep you updated on your condition. In the meantime, Susan here will be taking care of you. I'll talk to you later!" With that, he nodded to the nurse and the guards, then left.

Xander heard the buzz-click of the door. He was locked in, and everyone in the room was locked in with him. Nurse Susan and the guards had followed the doctor out with their eyes, just as Xander had. When they all turned back to him, Xander interrupted by asking, "Hey, when we're done, do you think I can give my friends a call and maybe my folks? Let them know I'm still alive? When you tell my folks I'm okay, they'll probably ask you how much you want to keep me, but my friends will want to know I'm doing okay."

"Well, I know that someone's talked to your parents about your being here. I don't know if they've been told you're awake yet." Nurse Susan patted him on the arm. Xander barely felt it, and it came off as a bit fake. "Okay, Xander, these next couple are going to sound a bit weird, but it's all just a preliminary to make sure there's no long-term effects of being unconscious for so long."

"You know, the doctor said that too. How long have I been here? And what happened to me?" That was the big question. How the hell did he suddenly become a girl? The last thing he remembered was Halloween and trick-or-treating, and then everything because gray and foggy, and then everything became black.

Nurse Susan suddenly looked out of her element. "You, uh, don't remember what happened? They found you in a crater in Nevada. You were naked as the day you were born and out like a light. And you've been out since then."

"No, I don't remember any of that. So, when is now?"

"Oh, sorry." Nurse Susan cut a quick glance at the guard. Xander saw one of the women give a micro-shrug, at which point Susan tapped something on her datapad. "Well, according to this, you were admitted on the third of November, and it's now it the end of March, so just under six months."

"Six months? Holy crow!"

"Yep. It's a long time. So... are you ready for the next round of questions?" At Xander's confirming nod, Susan asked, "How many fingers?" She held her hand up.

"Four. Or three and a thumb if you want to get anal."

"Very good. Okay, and what's the primary color of my smock?" She was scribbling again.

"Purple. Sort of violety purple, too."

"Good. Good. Can you name the current president?"

Xander began to answer, and then abruptly closed his mouth. "Well, given the election and all, I, uh, I don't know. Either President Clinton got re-elected, or its President Bob Dole. One of the two, obviously."

Nurse Susan paused in her scribbling. She looked at Xander a little sharply, then took a deep breath and kept smiling. "Well, I'm not sure where your particular political ideals are located on the left-right scale, but President Clinton was, in fact, re-elected."

"Oh, that's cool. I like the guy. Couldn't have voted for him, but hey, still like the guy."

"Right." Susan glanced at her pad again. "Can you tell me your parents' names?"

"Anthony and Jessica." Xander's face got gloomy. "The lush and the punching bag," he muttered to himself.

"I'm sorry, but did you just say, 'the lush and the punching bag?' Was that comment about your parents?"

Xander didn't answer at first. Finally, just when Susan was about to prompt him again, Xander responded. "Yeah. My dad and mom. They're both just... just... exquisite specimens of humanity. He's been living in a bottle ever since he got hurt on the job, and he takes his frustrations out on his family. In return, my Mom's climbed into the bottle right next to him, and has discovered that she knows how to throw a punch too."

That stopped the nurse cold. "Alex, did they ever hurt you? I mean, were you – did they beat you? Did your father ever touch you?" Without meaning to, Nurse Susan's eyes darted down toward Xander's chest, then back up. "You know. Did he ever – "

Xander felt himself blush. His face went from glum to confused to disgusted. "Ugh! Why'd you have to make with the bad thoughts? Oh, my God, I'm going to be all day scrubbing with brain bleach to get that picture out of my head! No! He never touched me! Neither did she! I mean, other than with his fists. But not that. He got really liquored up one time and threw an empty bottle of Jim Beam at my head, but he never – ewww!" The long rant got scratchier and scratchier, and quieter and quieter, as Xander's voice gave out.

Nurse Susan helpfully brought more ice water. "I think we're done for now," she added. "The remote for the TV is over your right shoulder; let me get that for you. I know you can't get it with your hands in those things." Susan looked apologetic at her own mention of the shackles, as she handed the remote to Xander. It was attached to the wall by a long silvery cable. "Agent Dunne is going to want to talk to you about a couple of things, I am sure." Nurse Nancy tilted her head toward one of the guards. "Keep smiling, Xander. Don't let it get to you."

With that, she patted Xander on the hand and left, accompanied by the usual buzz-click.

Xander watched her leave, then turned her attention to the woman Nurse Nancy had called 'Agent Dunne.' Xander studied her for a moment. Really studied her. This Agent Dunne was maybe ten or twelve years older than Xander. She was a tallish woman, standing maybe five-foot ten inches tall. Her hair was auburn and tucked up into that sort of twirly-bun thing that women know how to do when they have long hair. And she had freckles. If Xander hadn't been absolutely terrified of her, he'd have thought she was cute.

He fell back on his usual behavior patterns: when scared beyond belief, start making jokes. "So, Agent Dunne, right? I have to say that as vacation resorts go, the beds here are pretty great, but the room service is a bit on the light side." The corners of Dunne's mouth quirked just enough for Xander to be aware of it. He swallowed heavily and continued, unsure exactly how to proceed. "So, I guess if Nurse Susan was the good cop, that makes you the bad cop?"

The agent stepped forward as she spoke. "That all depends on how this conversation goes. As you heard, my name is Josephine Dunne. You can call me Ms. Dunne, or Agent Dunne. I'll answer to either. Eventually, maybe, if everything goes well between us, we can advance to the point that you can call me Josephine, or Jo. But we're not there yet. Would you prefer me to call you Ms. Starr, or Ms. Harris?"

Xander's brow furrowed. "Harris. My last name is Harris. I don't know why you'd want to call me Starr. It's not my name. I don't know anyone named Starr. My name is Alexander Harris. And if you must call me by my last name its 'Mister' Harris.'" He paused and looked down on himself. "Despite what it looks like, I'm not a girl. I'm a guy. Like I said, my name is Alexander Harris. My friends call me Xander. I don't know how I got stuck in this body, but given some of the other things that have happened to me, this is just – I dunno – weird. But I'm not a girl. I'm not."

Dunne stared at him for a moment. "All evidence to the contrary."

"Yeah! Exactly!" Xander nodded. "This isn't my body and I don't know how this happened, but this isn't me." He waved his hands toward his now-protuberant chest. "It isn't me."

Dunne was quiet for a moment, then began again, this time with a sterner tone of voice. "Ms. Harris-- " She held up a hand when Xander started to object. "Look, I do not want to come across as insensitive, but here's the situation. While you were unconscious we took your fingerprints to identify you. And identify you we did. We found out that you are, in fact, a seventeen year old female runaway Midvale, Ohio named Karen Starr. In my line of work, I've encountered people who wanted me to call them all sorts of things," she continued. "So while I'm willing to go with the flow and call you by whatever name you want me to call you while you're here, there are limits. I'm not going to call you 'Mister' just because you want to show your ass."

"Look, lady – "

"Agent." There was iron in her voice now. "Call me Agent Dunne, or Ms. Dunne. Do not call me 'lady.' That is disrespectful. I haven't been disrespectful to you, so you have no call to be disrespectful to me."

Xander took a deep breath, then let it out through his nose slowly. "Okay. Agent. Look, I'm not just saying this to show my ass. I really am a guy. I'm just stuck in a girl suit."

"You're saying you're a transsexual?"

"A what?" Xander was confused for a moment. "Oh, you mean – no, I'm – well – sort of, I guess. I mean – but – I mean, I'm a guy, and I'm trapped inside the body of a girl, but I have no idea how I got here. I wasn't born this way. I mean I wasn't born a girl, I was born a guy. And then this all happened. One minute I was a guy, the next I'm suddenly a girl."

"You're not a transsexual, you've just been suddenly turned female." Dunne asked with a bemused look on her face. "Like someone hit you with some sort of mad science sex-change ray and turned you from a man into a woman?"

"Exactly! Right! That's what happened! I need to figure out how to change back. There's got to be a way. I mean, if something turned me into this." Dunne's face grew darker and Xander realized he'd just referred to being female in a very disrespectful manner. "Sorry! I'm sure there's nothing wrong with being female, but when you're a guy it's not what you're supposed to be and I'm not describing it correctly and oh my God I'm babbling like Willow." He took a deep breath and again let it out slowly. "Anyway, I'm stuck in this body – not that there's anything wrong with it, I guess – but it's not my body. I want to get my body back, and until I do, I'm asking you to refer to me as 'mister.' I didn't ask for this, so it's not my fault I'm not in my correct body. Okay?"

Dunne was quiet, an odd look on her face.

"I promise I'll be cooperative. Just – if you're going to call me by my last name, do me this one favor, okay?" Xander was pleading. He knew how desperate he sounded.

"All right. For the sake of cooperation, we'll call you 'mister.' Don't jump on people who forget, okay?"

Xander nodded quickly, relieved to get that over with. "So, you were saying?"

"What?" Dunne gave a start, then looked apologetic. "Oh, sorry. I was saying that I'm the head of your security detail." She stopped, abruptly, and restarted. "I understand this isn't exactly the best circumstances in which to meet new people, and I'm sorry about that. I'm not exactly at fault for what's going on either." To Xander she at least sounded sincere.

"Now, that being said, I am required by law to give you the following information. If it sounds like something I memorized, it's because I had to memorize it." Dunne smiled slightly, then began: "In accordance with Part 5 of the United States Legal Code, Section 102 Subsection 1103, and Section 105, Subsection 2105, you have been arrested by SHIELD on the charge of publicly utilizing superhuman powers without due registration and without proper licensing."

Xander started to speak, but Dunne held her hand up. "I'll answer your questions after I finish, okay?"

"As an unregistered superhuman, you can be held indefinitely as a threat to the American public, and will not receive the benefit of a trial, or even legal representation." This caused Xander to scowl; Dunne acknowledged his scowl with an apologetic shrug. "That all said, you're being given a chance to cooperate with us, and a chance to register. Should you choose to not cooperate, you'll be sent to prison, probably for the rest of your life. Now, you obviously have questions. I'll answer what I can. There are some things I either can't answer, and by that, I mean literally I don't have the information so I can't answer, and then there are things I won't answer because of security concerns or security classification. But if you remember those restrictions, I'll try to answer your questions."

"Yeah. My first question was originally going to be about who you guys were and the superhuman thing, but now I have a question about the entire 'no trial, rest of my life' thing. I thought the Constitution was set up to prevent that sort of thing! Isn't there an Amendment that prevents cruel and unusual punishments and gives everyone whatcha callit – due process? I'm not a lawyer but I've watched enough _Law and Order_ to know that just tossing people into jail for life without so much as a lawyer visit is wrong!"

"Except in this case you're not considered a person."

That stopped Xander cold. And the cold went all the way through him. "If I'm not a person, then what am I?"

"Legally? You're a walking talking weapon of mass destruction, and in the interest of public safety, you can and will be imprisoned if you don't cooperate." Again, Dunne sounded apologetic, but she also sounded determined.

Xander thought about it. "And what makes me a weapon of mass destruction? I'm just a guy who got turned into a girl."

"No, Mr. Harris," she sighed. "If, as you say, you're just a guy who got turned into a girl, you're also a guy who got turned into a girl who fell from near-Earth orbit, slammed into the side of a mountain hard enough to leave a crater a hundred feet across, and yet doesn't have a scratch on her. Him. Sorry."

"What?"

"While you've been unconscious, we've been examining you. While we do not know the full extent of your abilities, we have determined that you're immune to any sort of, well, damage isn't the word for it. We tried to set you up with an IV, and the needles broke and bent on your skin. We can't get any sort of read on your body's electrical system. To an X-Ray machine, you're solid as concrete. We get some penetration with an MRI, but not enough to really matter."

The shock was apparent on Xander's face. He had no idea how to react to this. It was – it was – it was almost as shocking as waking up a girl. _Congratulations, Xander! You're a superhero! And because of it, you're going to jail!_

"I don't know if you're a mutant or if you got hit by lightning, or were dunked in a vat of toxic waste or, picked up the wrong magical doo-dad at the wrong time. But I do know my superhumans, Mr. Harris, and you are certainly one of them."

"Wait. You said, 'You know your superhumans?' So I'm not the only one?"

"Not the only – Mr. Harris, are you really trying to tell me that you've never heard of the Avengers? Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, the Wasp? Or Spider-Man? That you've never seen a news story about any of these people?" Dunne was obviously skeptical.

"Captain _huh?_ " Again shock prevented Xander from articulating what he was feeling. He thought about what he was hearing, and as he did something from what Dunne had said finally trickled through. "Wait... you said I was in SHIELD custody earlier? You're talking SHIELD the agency. Agent Dunne. You're a SHIELD agent. Like Nick Fury and the Agents of Shield, SHIELD! That's who you're talking about, right? That SHIELD?"

"Director Fury is retired, but yes, that would be the agency I'm talking about. But --"

"And Captain America and Spider-Man and the Avengers and the X-Men and Doctor Strange – all that... they're all real?"

"Yes, of course they are. Why would you not think they were real?"

Xander seemed to deflate in his bed. "Holy shit, it's worse than I thought. I'm like – in another world entirely." His words were barely audible.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm – I – I don't even know how to describe it. I'm in the Marvel Universe, stuck in a girl's body."

Dunne just looked confused. "What's the Marvel Universe?"

"Yeah, I guess you'd just call it 'the universe.'" Xander said. He couldn't prevent the wry smile. "I was always a bigger fan of DC Comics than Marvel."

"Mr. Harris, you're not making sense."

"Yeah, I know." He shook his head. "But its not me, its the world. The world isn't making sense, Agent Dunne of SHIELD. The world isn't making sense."

She was silent for a moment, then asked, "Tell me about it. Please?"

Xander stared at her for a good long while, then finally shrugged. "Okay. The last thing I remember is being in Sunnydale, trick-or-treating. I was helping to escort some elementary school kids as part of a Community Action thing set up by my High School principal, a real sourpuss of a man named Ryan Snyder. We kept the kids safe while they were walking around at night."

"That was sweet of you. Did you have fun?"

"Oh sure, I was sharing Xander's Tips for Maximizing Candy Acquisition with the runts. Anyway, everything suddenly went gray, then black, and the next thing I know I'm waking up here. And I'm stuck in a girl's body, and am apparently about to be thrown in prison for the crime of being alive." Xander's eyes looked through Agent Dunne. "Before I got here I was a man, and I didn't have these powers. I don't know what's going on, and I have no idea what to do about it. And my head hurts now."

Dunne turned to one of her subordinates. "Agent Plato, would you go get Mr. Harris something for her headache? I'm sure Agent Book and I will be fine alone with her. Him. With Mr. Harris." At this, one of the other women nodded, then left the room.

"This is like a bad joke. Why am I the universe's butt-monkey, what with the Aztec mummies and the virgin-eating praying mantises, and the – " his voice trailed off. "I'm really tired. Can we do this some other time?"

Dunne didn't respond.

"Please?" Xander pleaded.

Finally, Dunne nodded. "Okay, we can finish the briefing after you've rested. Keep this in mind, okay? Like I said before, because of your situation, your exact status is a bit up in the air. Right now, its been decided that if, while you're with us, you cooperate, answer our questions, take some tests, and things like that, and if you agree to come into compliance with the Registration Act, you'll eventually be able to go home."

"Home. Right." Xander couldn't help but laugh. "Home seems like it's really far away right now."

"I can understand that." Dunne just nodded. Again, she sounded sincere, and apologetic. "So, Mr. Harris, think you can be cooperative with us?"

"What choice do I have?" was the bitter reply.

**XxxxxxX**

From the other side of the one-way glass, Agents Understone and Copella watched Agent Dunne talk to the girl. Both had incredulous looks on their faces.

"Got to admit, Boss, I sort of expected her to lie to us about things, but not to tell this sort of whopper." Copella shook his head. "And such a blatant lie, too. Wow. It's like she doesn't respect us enough to put work into it."

But Understone was shaking his head. "No, I don't think so, Bart. I think the girl believes everything she told us. Look at her. She's scared, and shocked, and traumatized, and – well, I don't know what else, but I can tell she was earnest about it. I'm not saying she's not nuttier than a fruitcake, but I don't think she's lying."

Copella tapped on the datapad in his hands. "Yeah, well, I got news, Boss. She's lying about this." He handed the datapad to his supervisor. "Take a look."

Understone recognized the Internet Film Repository, or 'IFR' as it was called. The website was a database of movie information since the silent era, including just about everyone who'd ever starred in anything, or directed anything, or wrote, produced, did music for, did animation for any film and TV project ever produced. He'd wasted some time there before, just bouncing from one movie page to the next. If you were into movie and TV trivia -- and he was -- it was a cool site to go to. The specific page was for the series _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_. Understone remembered it, barely. It had always seemed like a 'chick show' during a time in his life when he was much more into cars and sports. As far as he could remember, the only episode of _Buffy_ he ever saw was the one that involved some demon invading the internet, and even then he'd only watched the first ten or fifteen minutes before turning it over to a baseball game.

"Okay, so _Buffy the Vampire Slayer._ What's the connection?" Understone tried to give Copella back the pad, but Copella just pointed to it.

"Look at the cast, boss."

Undertone did so. "Charisma Carpenter as Buffy, Sarah Michelle Gellar as Cordelia, Riff Regan, Anthony Head, Nathan Fillion, Ryan Reynolds – I haven't heard of half of these people. Wait – " He looked at Copella sharply. "Ryan Reynolds as _Xander Harris_? Let me guess, Xander is short for Alexander, and the character's middle name was Lavelle?"

Copella was nodding. "Exactly, boss. Our girl there is using the name of a TV character." He turned back to the window. "Wonder why she chose _that_ TV character."

Understone shrugged. "No idea. But I still don't think she's lying. Somehow, I think she actually believes she's really this character." He paused, thinking. "Okay, how's this sound? Girl having trouble at home and on the edge of delinquency goes through a power eruption and suffers a mental breakdown because of the stress. Takes on the identity of a character from a TV show because being herself hurts too much. Or something."

"Well, it's probably way wrong, but it sounds good." Copella gave his boss a sharp look. "You're saying she's not lying because she's crazy?"

"Might be. Never been through it myself, but I've heard that suddenly getting superpowers can be scary and painful. I remember talking to Ms. Marvel once about the time she got her powers. She said she almost got PTSD because of it, and says that its one of the things that caused her to start drinking. Its possible that happened here. Hell, for all we know, the individual we have here and are calling Karen Starr really is a guy, and part of her eruption was to suddenly become a girl who really existed. Maybe this 'Xander Harris' is a ghost who is possessing Karen Starr. Stranger things have happened."

Copella didn't know how to react to that idea. He was a religious man, and had always had trouble coming to terms with the fact that magic and demons and witches and wizards were real. "Wow. Okay, you want I should contact Leonard Samson?"

"Yeah, Bart. Good thinking. Get Samson. Have him do a psych eval so we know if this girl is a psycho or just a victim. If she's crazy, maybe I won't have to have her hauled to the Gulag, assuming its a permanent thing. If it's not, maybe we can do the world some good and get her treatment." Understone turned and walked toward the door.

"Yeah. Lord knows we need more good in the world. I'll handle it, Boss." Copella smiled at his supervisor's retreating back. Still smiling, he turned back to the window to watch Dunne finish up with the girl. Copella let out a sigh. He hated seeing people tossed in jail for doing nothing, and to his mind, all she'd been guilty of was falling out of the sky like a rock. Hopefully someone would smarten back up before it went to far. At least the girl was being cooperative.

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it appears that the _Buffy_ watched in the Marvel Universe wasn't completely identical to that watched in ours. I should note, for those who weren't already aware, that all the alternate casting choices I present here were actual possibilities in our world. Charisma Carpenter originally auditioned for Buffy, but was cast as Cordelia, while Sarah Michelle Gellar originally auditioned for Cordelia, but was cast as Buffy. Pretty much everybody knows that Riff Regan was the original Willow Rosenberg, but only a handful know that Nathan Fillion and Ryan Reynolds were under serious consideration to play Angel and Xander, respectively, at one point.
> 
> Also, while Joss Whedon specified the exact dates of birth for most of the lead characters, and even some of the secondary characters, for whatever reason he never pinned down Xander's exact birthday, other than to say it was in the middle of January. I picked January 12 because its in the middle of January, and happens to be my mom's birthday.


	4. Life is What Happens to You...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“Heroes aren't heroes because of what they do. They are heroes because they show all of us that one person, just one person, can make a difference.” – **Marc Morial**_

**XxxxxxX**

“So, tell me a little about yourself?”

“You want me to tell you about myself?” Xander stared in bemusement. He knew who Doc Samson was, at least in theory. All his knowledge came from the comics, so it might very well be wrong when applied to a real world. Safer to say he thought he knew who Doc Samson was. Psychiatrist. Superhero. Agent Dunne had told him that refusing to talk to the doctor would be considered 'not cooperating,' and that there would be consequences for doing so. He still wasn't sure what those consequences meant, so he was playing it cool and talking to the shrink.

Turned out that in real life, Leonard Samson was taller than Xander by a good four inches, even considering that his new body was 6' 2” tall. The psychiatrist was also as wide of body as a professional wrestler. And he had green hair.

“Sure. Tell me about yourself. I just thought it might be easier to do your evaluation if I knew you a little better. But if you're uncomfortable with that, we can talk about something else first.” The psychiatrist didn't carry one of those fancy _Star Trek_ pads; just a clipboard with a yellow legal pad on it and a disposable bic pen.”

“Right. Tell you about myself.” Xander shrugged apathetically and rolled his eyes. “What do you want to know?”

“I'd like to know whatever you want to tell me. There's no such thing as a right or wrong answer. I'm just here to talk to you.”

Xander stared at the ceiling, wondering where to begin.

“How about you start with your childhood.”

Xander's eyes lowered from the ceiling to Samson. “What?”

The other man laughed. It was a gentle laugh, not meant to put him on guard. “Xander, I've been doing this for a while. I can tell when a person is trying to figure out where they should start talking. Why don't you start with your childhood?”

Xander was quiet for a while. Samson looked like he was about to say something else when Xander finally relented. “There's not too much to say about my childhood. I didn't really enjoy most of it. There were some things that were okay, but for the most part it sucked.”

“How so?”

“Well, you see –” Xander began, then fell quiet. “I guess the--” and fell quiet. “What you have to understand was –” and fell quiet. “The thing is –” and fell quiet.

“That bad?” Samson leaned forward. “We can talk about something else if you're not ready to talk about this.”

“No, it’s okay. Its just –” And Xander fell quiet again. Finally, “My parents got married right out of high school. Dad got Mom pregnant and their families sort of forced them together rather than take the easy way out.”

“You say that as if they should have taken this 'easy way out.' Isn't that a bit self-denigrating? After all, if your Mom aborted, you wouldn't be here.”

“Yeah, and I guess that's a good thing – being here beats not existing and all – but I think they would have been happier in the long run without me. Tony was this high school jock. Captain of Sunnydale High's baseball team. He played third base, and could hit like Mark McGuire. He was expecting to get all sorts of scholarship offers. Mom was apparently just some girl he slept with.” Xander swallowed hard. “Not a cheerleader or prom queen or anything. Just some girl he picked up after a game. And by the time those scholarship offers finally started rolling in, he couldn't take them anymore because he had a wife to support with a baby on the way.”

“Are you an only child?”

Xander became very still and quiet. “Yeah. I mean. Um. No. I mean. Well, once upon a time, I had a twin brother. An identical twin brother. His name was Gavin, and he disappeared when we were both six. I really don't like talking about him.”

“He disappeared?”

“Yeah. We were playing in our backyard. Mom was inside, drinking her lunch and watching _Days of Our Lives_ or something. I went inside to use the bathroom, and when I got back outside, he was gone. No one ever saw him again.” Samson missed the almost whispered, “Thank God for small favors.”

“That's horrible. I'm sorry. I take it your brother's disappearance made your home life even harder?”

Xander gave a grim-sounding laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. Tony didn't want any kids at all, much less two. The colossal prick actually told me once that if there was one good thing about Gavin's disappearance, it was because it was one less pain in his ass he had to deal with. Fucking asshole.” Xander stopped talking only because he realized he started weeping. He sat there and wiped at his eyes, doing nothing but crying silently and breathing, in and out, as deeply as he could.

“It’s okay, Xander.” Samson said. “Take your time.”

When he could talk again, Xander started right back where he'd left off. “When I was ten, Tony told me that Gavin and I were the reasons he got Mom 'fixed.' That's how he put it: 'got Mom fixed.' He just decided it was going to happen, and it happened, and Mom had no say in the matter. He apparently saved up a bunch of money so she could get this operation. A tuba-something-or-other.”

“A tubal ligation?” At Xander's shrug, the doctor continued. “That’s where the woman's fallopian tubes are cut and tied off. Is that what you mean?”

“I guess. You're the doctor. I mean, I read that once. That shrinks are medical doctors and not just, you know, shrinks. That's right, right?”

“Yep. That's correct. I'm a medical doctor who specialized in psychiatry.” Samson shrugged.

“Okay, cool.”

“So, you were saying.” Samson prompted.

“What? Oh, yeah. Anyway, Tony did this all because of me and Gavin. Because we were the ones he blamed for his life being ruined. Wasn't the drinking, or being a miserable fucking bastard. No, it was his kids.”

“I take it he regularly made sure you knew you were to blame for his failings?”

“Yeah, like, daily. Like I said, he drank. The man was a serious drinker. At his worst, he'd go through a bottle of Jim Beam a day. For as long as I can remember, I don't think there was a day that he was entirely sober.” Xander shook his head and laughed in a sardonic sort of way. “I can't figure how he kept his job, given that he was an angry, sloppy drunk, but he did.”

“He was a functional alcoholic?”

“Functional? Like, even when drunk he could do things? I guess that's how it was. I mean, he was never put in jail, never crashed his car, kept his job.” Xander rubbed his forehead. This was harder than he thought it would be. “Tony even had friends. The only people he took it out on were me and Mom. He even reigned it in when my friends were around. But when it was just the three of us, he let us know how he felt about us. Sometimes with words, sometimes with his fists.”

“He was beating both you and your mother?”

“Well, yeah, but not all the time. Just every once in a while. Mostly he'd yell. He was a creative man with the insult. I can probably count the times he got violent with me on both hands and have fingers left over. But he was good at letting me and my mom know where we sat. By the time I was ten, I had pretty much been convinced that I was a worthless piece of trash that no one would love.”

“How did your mother react to all this?” Samson shifted in his seat, lowering one leg and crossing the other.

“I don't know how she started out, but I always got the impression Mom originally thought she and Tony would end up happy together. She thought that she'd eventually convince him to love her.” Xander shrugged. “I think she started drinking right around the time he started hitting her. By the time I was old enough to know what was going on, she had learned to strike back often and hard. Believe me, the abuse in that family wasn't just in one direction. My mom wouldn't yell at me or dad for doing something wrong – she'd just wade in with her fists, or a rolled-up magazine, or that copper potato masher she had in the kitchen. I'd go so far as to say it was mom who was the real abusive parent in my childhood, not my dad.”

“You know, Xander, emotional abuse is just as bad and just as damaging as physical abuse.”

Again, Xander shrugged. “Yeah, but I'm a guy. We're not trained to think like that, are we?” Samson's eyebrow flickered at that. “I mean, first, society has trained us that we're not supposed to hit girls, ever, so we let them get away with murder. I've watched the guys around school with their girlfriends, and these girls would badmouth them, and slap them, push them around, kick them – just generally act mean to them, and no one would say a word. But if one of the guys dared push back, much less actually hit them, then the entire student body would descend on this 'horrible abuser' before he had a chance to realize what he'd done. Even if he pushed back because he had a black eye and a bloody lip and was scared she'd really hurt him and was only pushing her away to defend himself, he's the asshole because you don't hurt girls, right?” Xander took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slow. “And we're also taught that words can never hurt us.”

Samson was quiet for a bit, staring at Xander. “But you don't believe it, do you? All those things that guys are taught about being tough. You don't believe them.”

“Not really. I know how hard words can hurt. And I know better than most that girls can seriously hurt you if they want to hurt you.” Without realizing he was doing it, Xander crossed his arms over his chest. It was the classic first defensive position.

**XxxxxxX**

Two days after he'd woken up, they moved Xander to another room. Another cell, really, though it didn't resemble any of the jail cells he'd seen in movies and on television. It was one room with a thickly built metal door, and there was a big mirror on one wall that was one-way glass, but the room also had a small table and a chair and a single-sized bed. And there was a TV mounted on the wall and a separate bathroom. It was a cell, and no one would have mistaken it for anything else, but at least SHIELD had tried to give him a little bit of comfort. He wasn't chained to the bed anymore, at least. He could move around the room, and that was a good thing. Of course, he was still living at the beck-and-call of SHIELD. No matter how polite Agent Dunne and her team were, they still weren't letting him out. And that sort of ruined the 'good thing' aspects of being able to move around. It was just one more straw on an increasingly tired and pained camel's back.

Since the revelation that he was trapped in a comic book universe, surrounded by people who thought he was some sort of dangerous criminal, separated from his friends, with no idea how to get back to them, not to mention stuck inside a body that not only did not belong to him but was the wrong freaking gender on top of it all, he'd been on the edge of the blackest depression he'd ever experienced or would ever experience.

_HE WASN'T A GIRL, DAMN IT!_

It wasn't like being a girl was a bad thing, per se, but it wasn't him. He was a guy. Had been all his life.

For about ten seconds, on first day after he woke up, it had occurred to him that this being female thing would have been slightly smoother had he looked like a female version of himself. He didn't. He looked like Power Girl from the comics. Long, golden blonde hair. Creamy, unblemished skin. A better jawline than his original body. Not to mention the muscles; Power Girl clearly had worked out occasionally. Or maybe she was just normally muscular. And the tits. Let's not forget the tits. The huge, basketball-sized tits.

He wasn't supposed to have tits.

He wasn't supposed to have a pussy for that matter.

Xander had argued with himself over that word: 'pussy.' He wasn't particularly fond of it, or fond of using it, as it always seemed vaguely insulting to him. But couldn't figure out what else he was supposed to call this new body part of his. Calling it a vagina was just as clinical as calling his dick a penis, not to mention just as awkward. When he searched his memory for an appropriate-sounding euphemism, all the ones he could think of were either too ridiculous (seriously, he had no idea where he'd even heard the phrase _sausage wallet_ in regards to the female anatomy; probably Jesse), too offensive (he refused to even allow himself to think the word _cunt_ except in generalities), or too vague (what the hell was _oyster cave_ even supposed to mean?), so he ended up settling on _pussy_.

Besides, what to call it wasn't the point. The point was, he wasn't supposed to have one. And he did. And there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it until he had a chance to consult with Doctor Strange or maybe Agatha Harkness. Hell, maybe he could find the High Evolutionary – he wasn't picky. Anyone who could turn him back into his original dick-bearing self would be fine with him.

His first day in the new cell, he'd spent an hour and a half in the bathroom, standing naked in front of the sink, staring at himself. Trying to make sense of this body he was now wearing. The body had become an enemy, or at the very least a hostile unaligned party who was doing nothing to help him. The center of gravity he was used to was in a completely different spot, so he had to relearn to walk without tipping over. And that wasn't even considering the effects of being in a bed for so long. So he poked. He prodded. He pushed things around. He pulled on the body's eyelids and stared into the body's eyes., which were a disturbingly light shade of blue. His own eyes were a perfectly serviceable and attractive shade of brown. He examined the body's teeth, which were whiter and straighter than he ever imagined teeth could be. And they were all there. It was obvious that no one had ever tossed a beer bottle at this body's head in anger and broke one of its teeth off at the gum line.

And that was how he thought of it. _The_ body. Not _his_ body. Because it wasn't _his_ body. It was _someone else's_ body. _His_ body was male. _This one_ was female.

 

Admittedly, it was attractive. In addition to the phenomenal breasts and the creamy, blemish-free skin and the long, luxurious hair and the face that any cover-model would kill for, it was soft. And it reacted in interesting ways during some of his examination of it. He didn't consider it masturbation, after all, since it wasn't his body he was playing with. More like playing around with a toy. A warm, fleshy, living toy.

 

Though he _had_ enjoyed how it felt.

**XxxxxxX**

“I take it you're speaking from experience.” It wasn't really a question, and both Xander and Samson knew it. “Words hurting, I mean.”

“Yeah. Loads of experience.” Xander sighed. “It wasn't just my dad and my mom. There were some kids I knew growing up –” He stopped in mid-sentence, as if reconsidering. A quiet moment of contemplation, then, “The thing you have to understand about Sunnydale is that it’s a horrible place to grow up. A horrible place.”

“Tell me about it?”

“First off, Sunnydale has like a huge violent crime rate. I mean, not so much on the breaking and entering or drug use, though there's some of that. But people are killed or go missing all the time. The only thing keeping Sunnydale from being the murder capital of the world is that most of the deaths are chalked up to accidents or mysterious circumstances or things that like. But it’s weird. It’s like – it’s like everyone knows what's going on, but no one ever talks about it. Like everyone in town is sharing a secret.”

There was another long bout of silence.

“A secret?” Samson prodded.

“Yeah. Everybody knew that people were dying all around us all the time. They'd take precautions without ever really being aware they were doing it. Like, everybody knew you just didn't go out at night unless it was in a group, and you stayed away from the deserted places even then. Everybody knew you couldn't trust the cops to help you. Everybody knew that when you heard about someone a couple of blocks over just disappearing, if they ever showed back up you stayed away from them like their life depended on it. You didn't invite people in. You didn't stick your neck out unnecessarily.” Xander stopped speaking. He just stared at Samson, as if waiting for something.

“All right. So, what was going on to make people do all this?”

“Doc, I'd tell you, but you'll think I'm crazy.” Xander chuckled. “Crazier, I mean.”

“I don't think you're crazy.” Samson reassured.

“Sure you do, Doc. You just don't call it crazy.” Xander thought about it for a minute. “You know what? Maybe you won't think I'm crazy. After all, you're a psychiatrist who was accidentally irradiated with gamma rays and now can bench-press bulldozers. Why would my story be any weirder than that, right?”

“You know about – ?” Samson let the question hang in the air.

“Yeah. Um. I read about you. Not too many psychiatrists with lime green hair, right?”

“Ah. Right. Okay, go on, please. You were going to tell me about what made Sunnydale so dangerous.”

“Right.” Xander thought for a moment. “Do you know what 'El Broca de Inferno' means?”

“El Broca de Inferno?” Samson's forehead creased as he tried to understand. “The drill of hell?”

“Uh. No, not the drill. The mouth. The mouth of hell.”

Oh. 'La Boca del Infierno', 'the mouth of Hell' in Spanish. Not 'El Broca del Inferno.'”

“Right. I'm afraid I was never too good at Spanish, and I was barely passing French. By the way, in French its 'La Bouche de l'Enfer.'” With a wry grin, Xander added. “Barely passing is still passing. Sunnydale was sitting on top of the Mouth of Hell. From what Giles told me – he was our librarian – the Hellmouth was like a magical rip in the universe that led to Hell, and it attracted all kinds of nasty things to town. Monsters. And of course, every now and then demons would crawl out of it. But the worst part was it just sort of poisoned everything.”

Samson didn't even blink at this talk of demons and hellmouths. “How so?”

“The entire town felt off. I never noticed it, really, until it was pointed out to me, but nothing ever seemed to really go right. For every good thing, there were always three bad things. Give you an example. Tony got a raise once, when I was thirteen or fourteen, and the magnanimous prick took me and Mom out to dinner. A nice place, by our standards. Of course, by regular restaurant standards, it was basically family night at the Golden Corral, but that didn't matter. My father was finally doing something nice for the family.”

Xander took a deep breath. “There we were, having a great time. The food was good, dad was telling jokes and had talked to me like I was a human being, wasn't giving mom the stink-eye. And on the way home, we get into a car accident. Not just a little fender bender, either. Our car was totaled and Tony was put in the hospital for a month because of injuries sustained. And of course, he ended up blaming us; if he hadn't been wasting money on us in a restaurant, we'd never have been on the road to get hit and he'd not only not have to replace the car, but the tens of thousands of dollars in hospital bills wouldn't have been there. Can I get a drink of water or something?”

The abrupt switch from narrative story to direct question caught Samson off guard. “Oh, yeah, sure. Help yourself?” He waved over to the side of the room where a pitcher of ice water and some plastic cups sat on a table.

Xander kept an eye on the psychiatrist as he drank his water. “You're playing it cool, but I know you're having a hard time swallowing all this. I know I sure did, when it was finally laid out in front of me. It sounds unbelievable, but it’s true; the town was just evil.”

He stared into space for a moment. “My first friends were two kids I met in kindergarten. Willow Rosenberg and Jesse McNally. Of all the things that kept me from turning into my dad, I give them the biggest amount of credit; them and a guy named Rupert Giles. But mostly it was Willow and Jesse. They kept me from drowning in it, you know?”

Samson just nodded.

“We had a lot in common. We had all been born in Sunnydale, we all had less than joyous childhoods, and we'd all lost someone close to us. Like my brother, Gavin, Willow's older sister Aspen –”

“Wait. Willow's sister was named _Aspen_?”

“Yep. Aspen Rosenberg.”

“They were both named after trees?”

Xander shrugged. “Could have been worse. I went to high school with a guy named Fernando Valenzuela Dusendorf. Not a Hispanic bone in his body. HIs great-grandparents were from Germany, in fact. His dad was just a huge fan of the Dodgers, and they won the World Series in 1981.”

“You’re saying that weird names weren't –”

“Nope. Not at all. I’ll tell you, Doc, I also went to school with a Buffy, an Asia, an Aria, a Ludwig, an Octavian, a Tucker, a Thorne, a Barnaby, and a Harmony. Of course, we also had a Larry and a Jonathan and a Mary and a Susan, so it’s not like there weren’t kids with normal names too. We just didn’t think it was odd to know a guy named Leonidas. Which I did, by the way.”

They both chuckled at that. Eventually, though, it wound down and Xander resumed the narrative. “Anyway, like I said, when we were both nine, Willow's sister Aspen disappeared into thin air while walking home from work one night. No one saw her again, though there was talk about her being seen running around later – after her disappearance, I mean -- with a one of those PCP Gangs. And Jesse's mom was found dead in an alley just outside the place she worked.”

“And you really think it’s because your town is built over the mouth of Hell?”

Xander was quiet for a moment. “Doc, you're a superhero. You've met at least one honest-to-God god I can think of. You've met aliens. Is it really that hard for you to imagine that a dimensional rift into Hell lies beneath a California town and that monsters are attracted to it?”

**XxxxxxX**

They brought him clothing, of course. He was no longer in the hospital, so naturally they had to put him in something other than a hospital gown. The clothing turned out to be three prison-orange shirts, three matching sets of pants, some flip-flops (what his mother always used to call shower shoes), three pair of underwear (granny panties, he noted) and three brassieres. He immediately ignored the underwear and the brassieres, of course. For the first two days, he never even considered the need to wear a top. At home, lounging around in his room, he would usually only put a shirt on when he went out, or when he came downstairs to eat with the parents, or when he had company over. Hell, sometimes he just lounged around in his underwear for as long as he could. He was a guy, after all, so it didn't bother him to wear the prison pants without anything under them, or to wander around his new cell without a shirt on.

On the second morning, though, Agent Dunne had come in and specifically ordered him to cover himself up. He was a minor, she told him, and wandering around naked where the surveillance cameras and the guys behind the one-way glass – they weren't even trying to hide the fact that they were watching him anymore – could see his tits just wasn't a proper thing for a minor to be doing. Xander eventually caved and started wearing one of the shirts when wandering around the room. Agent Dunne had also warned Xander of making noises while he was playing with himself. She specifically said that they weren't going to do anything to stop him from doing that, but he should be aware that the sounds could be picked up on the microphones. Xander had never blushed so hard in his life. But even then, he still ignored the underwear.

He spent much of the second day watching television and thinking. The television was basic, and the channel choices limited. There was PBS, and CSPAN, and ESPN, the Cartoon Network, the Home Shopping Channel, the Game Show Network, and the National Geographic Channel.

And that was it.

It was watching television that he got his third huge shock. Not only was he trapped in a girl's body, not only was he trapped in the Marvel Universe, but apparently, he'd moved ten years forward in time. By entering this universe, he'd somehow gone from October 31, 1996 to (per Agent Dunne) January 30, 2006. And then he'd spent the next five and a half months in a coma. The thought amused and horrified him all at once: _I am a time-travelling dimension-hopping man trapped in the body of a female superhero!_ His Uncle Rory would no doubt call this situation 'too weird for television.'

 

He'd settled down in front of the wall-mounted television, watching a rerun of _$20,000 Pyramid_ from the 1970s, watching some actor he'd never heard of named Richard Milligan or Richard Mulligan or something that like being embarrassed by a very young Billy Crystal, who was leading his game-show partner, a housewife from Paducah or something, to fame and glory. Not really thinking about the game, he sort-of drifted into some deep thoughts. Thoughts about his situation ( _probably hopeless_ ), about the body ( _I AM NOT A GIRL, DAMN IT!_ ), and about being held in a prison cell by a spy agency right out of the comics ( _surreal_.) It was only when he wasn't concentrating on things that he realized that he could remember.

Everything.

Every little fact that made Power Girl's life a life.

And it wasn't just the comic book stuff, either. The memories he had of Power Girl's life didn't just include beating up supervillains and flying and being stronger than anyone except her fellow Kryptonians, but everything. Alongside memories of putting a fist through Braniac's latest robot body were memories of going out to a dance club with some of her friends and pretending to get as drunk as they did. Sure, he could remember her secret identity, and the real names of her teammates on the Justice Society, the Justice League, and Infinity, Inc., but she also remembered Power Girl's home phone number, her favorite color, what her favorite fruit was, and whether she was a Democrat or a Republican. Things he didn't think were ever mentioned in the comic book.

The secret identity thing had twigged him for a moment, when he realized that they'd called him 'Karen Starr' at one point. Apparently, there was a Karen Starr in the Marvel Universe. That was weird enough, but the implications... He'd read enough Marvel to know that there weren't any secret Kryptonians sneaking around. If Karen Starr existed in the MU, it wasn't the same Karen Starr as from DC. For two entire hours, he contemplated the meaning of it, and came to no conclusions.

He eventually figured out that the most important Power Girl memories were of the superpowers Power Girl possessed, and how to use them. Some things appeared to be instinctual, like how to handle objects without crushing them into dust, or how to not fly all the time. Others took a few moment's thought to bring up the right memory, like how to concentrate in just such a way as to cast his vision into the higher and lower electro-magnetic frequencies. It turned out that X-Ray Vision didn't work like in the comics. What he saw were X-Ray images of the walls and what was behind them and not clear images like he saw when he was looking at the normal light range. That came as a surprise.

The first thing he did with it was locate all the hidden cameras and microphones implanted in the walls, the ceiling, and some of the furnishings of the room he was in. Surprisingly, there weren't any cameras in the bathroom, though there were two microphones. Even though it did not have a door, SHIELD was courteous enough to give him at least some privacy in the bathroom.

He argued with himself for nearly twenty minutes before finally deciding on how to test his heat vision. The Power Girl memories clearly showed her using it for certain acts of bodily hygiene, and while originally Xander figured he didn't care because he was a guy, and not a girl, eventually he decided that five months’ growth of leg and underarm hair had to be disposed of. He justified it to himself that he wasn't too fond of women who let their legs and underarms get hairy. Since he was trapped in a girl's body, he might as well keep it neat. After all, he'd never found armpit or leg hair attractive on any girl he'd ever panted after, so why shouldn't he keep to the same standards he insisted upon when it came to his personal taste in women? So, relying on the memories of Power Girl doing this, he turned his heat vision onto his own legs to depilitate. His first attempt made a five-inch square area on his thigh feel like he'd been sunburned. The second attempt, made with the heat vision at a much lower intensity, just made the hair curl up and smell burned. The third attempt was much better, and he managed to get rid of the leg-hair on those areas he could see, as well as the hair in his armpits. He eventually got the hang of it, and after that it was easy-peasy.

De-bushying his eyebrows was another matter. Power Girl's memories showed him a process involving getting very, very close to the mirror and trick-shotting his heat vision onto individual hairs. He thought about it, and thought about it, and afterward just decided that for the duration of his stay in this body, its eyebrows would be bushy.

And he never once considered doing anything about the hair in his 'bikini region.'

**XxxxxxX**

“Well, I – um – ” Samson had been broadsided. “I've never met any vampires personally, but I've heard stories from Captain America –”

“Right. Well, Sunnydale had a vampire problem. A bad vampire problem. And everyone knew it, but no one would admit it. Some people would come up with the stupidest things to explain it away. My friends and I eventually started calling it 'Sunnydale Syndrome.' But the vamps were real, and they were killing people by the dozen sometime.” Samson sat silent for a moment, then opened his mouth. Before he could speak, Xander continued. “I can tell you're still skeptical, Doc.” Xander sighed. “Let me give you an example, okay?” The psychiatrist made the universal 'keep going' hand motion. “There are ten elementary schools in Sunnydale, four middle schools, and three high schools. Now I don't know much about anything about Westbrook High or Oaks Christian School, but I can tell you this: when I started kindergarten at Wilkins Memorial Elementary, there were sixty kids in kindergarten with me; three classes of twenty kids apiece.” The kid was on a roll, and didn't even pause. “Now, even if you assume a ridiculous number of kids leaving – say one in five kids leave because their folks move to a new town, or they get held back a grade, or they're sick and can't start school with the rest of their graduating class – even if you accepted 1 in 5 kids not moving on to middle school with the other kids their age, you'd still expect almost fifty kids from Wilkins Memorial to make it to Kendall Avenue Middle School, right?”

Samson did some quick math in his head. “Okay, sure. Call it fifty kids, sure. What do you –”

“What I'm talking about is that fifty kids didn't move on to Kendall. Thirty-eight did. When I started at Kendall Middle School, there were a grand total of a hundred and fourteen new students, when there should have been a hundred and ninety. A year later and my graduating class has only ninety-four students in it. As of Halloween, the last day I remember being in Sunnydale, there were only eighty-two. By the time we graduate from Sunnydale High in a year? Who knows. There might be only fifty of us left.”

Samson's jaw hit the floor. “My God! Are you telling me that all those kids died in between starting Elementary School and High School?”

“Yeah.” Xander blinked. “Yeah. We've had a lot of suspiciously violent deaths and disappearances. Granted, it wasn't all of them. I mean, not all of them were killed by vampires. Some of the kids I knew who died did so for completely normal explainable reasons. Like, my friend Davie Tremoda in my freshman year got hit by a semi-truck riding his ten-speed down Highway 225. One of the cheerleaders got leukemia. Josie Bartlet disappeared and everyone assumed she was dead but she eventually turned up pregnant, living in Arizona at her older sister's place. This guy named Scott Shelton, one of the stoners, got his hands on some Ivory Snow-level heroin and overdosed...”

“Sorry, um, 'Ivory Snow?'” Samson asked.

“Yeah, you know, like the soap? Ninety-nine and forty-four one-hundredths percent pure?”

“Ah. Right. Sorry, go on.”

“Yeah, so not everyone who died or disappeared did it under weird circumstances. But there were a lot of people who just vanished off the face of the earth, or died from tripping while carrying a barbecue fork, or got caught by a 'gang on PCP.'” Xander gave a cynical chuckle. “There was a lot of gangs on PCP running around Sunnydale.”

They were both silent for a good while. Then Samson shifted in his seat. “Barbecue forks and gangs on PCP?”

“Sunnydale Syndrome, remember? The police filed a lot of reports that listed the cause of death as blood loss due to a barbecue fork injury to the neck.” Xander formed his hand into a grabby, fanged claw-shape and then 'bit' himself on the neck with a loud and playful 'grr!'

“Ah. Right. Vampires.”

“Yeah. And when mass attacks happened, they were never performed by vampires, but by a gang on PCP.” They both fell silent, not sure how to proceed.

“You were telling me about learning that words hurt?” Samson asked.

“Oh, yeah, right. Well, the reason I told you about Sunnydale is because you should understand about my friends and why I don't like to talk about them much. There I was, this lonely abused kid whose parents were drunks. I show up for kindergarten not knowing what to expect and almost immediately run into this kid named Jesse. He would end up being by best bud right up until the day he died. He was the only brother I ever had, you know? Even though he wasn't really.”

“Sure, I understand. Family isn't always the ones you were born to.

“Precisely. And along with Jesse was Willow, who even today is the sister I never had. There we were, new kids in kindergarten, and we all had something in common: the town had taken a loved one from all of us. And because of that, we were tentative and shy, and a bit stand-offish, and thus became the favorite targets for all the kids who got off on picking on others. And boy did we get picked on. I got it because my folks were the town drunks. Willow was a bookworm even when she was five. And Jesse – it’s hard to describe because he's was my friend, but you know how there's always one kid who is willing to do things like eat bugs or worms on a dare or shove erasers up their nose? That was Jesse. He could be annoying, more annoying than anyone would ever put up with, but me and Wills would put up with him, because he might be an annoying jerk, but he was our annoying jerk.” Xander abruptly rubbed at his eyes.

Samson could see a glisten in them, so he kept silent for a moment. When Xander once again seemed collected, the psychiatrist asked, “So the three of you banded together out of self-defense?”

“Yeah.”

“And did it work?”

“Well, yeah. It worked well. I mean, it didn't stop the serious bullies, and Cordelia Chase responded to us banding together by spreading her venom out to all of us instead of concentrating it on only one of us, but having someone at your back, letting you know that no matter what the bullies thought, you were okay and they liked you – yeah, it worked. Got us through elementary school and middle school and into high school. In fact, it wasn't until –” Xander stopped abruptly, as if words were caught in his throat.

“Until?” Samson prompted.

Xander swallowed visibly. “Until the day Buffy arrived. That was the day Jesse was killed.”

“Buffy is another one of your friends?”

“Yeah. She's –” Xander was quiet again for a long while, before finally saying, almost a whisper, “She's my hero.”

“You said Jesse was killed on the same day that your friend Buffy first arrived. Arrived from where?”

“Oh!” Xander stopped. “Sorry, I left some stuff out. She was the new girl. Just moved to Sunnydale from Los Angeles. Attractive. Blonde. I, um, I was crushing on her for a while. I'm not quite over it yet, but I'm getting there. She's made it clear that she treasures me as a friend, but only as a friend.”

Samson gave a tight smile. “Friends for real or brush-off friends?”

“For real. Seriously, she just, you know, didn't want to date me. But that's okay. Either she'll come around, or I'll get over it and find someone new.”

There was another quiet spot. “When you mentioned that Jesse was killed on the same day Buffy arrived, it sounded for a moment as if you blamed her for Jesse's death.”

“What? No! Doc, that's just – that's just crazy talk. Buffy didn't do anything to get Jesse killed. She tried to save him, and did end up saving Willow. She just... couldn't get to Jesse in time.”

“What happened to Jesse, Xander? How was he killed?”

At those words, Xander closed himself off. His face became blank, and his voice became that steady, almost monotone that people who were wound just a little too tightly used when they were terrified, or enraged, or both. He thought about how to answer the question, came up with a dozen different ways, and finally just said, “A vampire. It caught him, killed him, and turned him.”

“Turned him?” The confusion was clear on the psychiatrist's face.

“Into a vampire. And then it used Jesse as bait in a trap for Buffy.”

“Did the trap work?”

“No. Buffy got us out of that one, too. But later, Jesse was attacking Cordelia Chase, and I –”

“The same Cordelia Chase who tormented you and your friends?” Samson asked.

“That's her. Anyway, Jesse was attacking Cordelia Chase, and I couldn't let that happen, so I stopped him.” Xander's voice became even colder.

“Stopped him how?”

Xander rubbed at his eyes, where tears were forming. “I rammed a stake into his heart and watched him collapse into dust. I destroyed the monster who had taken the place of my best friend.” And with that, he started sobbing.

**XxxxxxX**

On the third day, Agent Dunne informed Xander that he'd be getting evaluated by a psychiatrist, so that the people in charge could get an idea of what his mental state was in. This would help them decide regarding what they were eventually going to do with him. He wasn't looking forward to it, but at least it was a change. After three days in the box-like cell, he was bored out of his skull. Even the kid's shows on PBS weren't entertaining him anymore. He'd begun daydreaming about escaping, using the body's heightened senses to case the building he was in. There were, intriguingly, some areas he couldn't see into. His curiosity made him wonder, but it was an idle thing.

For a short time, he amused himself by listening in to the conversations of the people who watched him. His cell was supposedly sound-proofed, but any sound outside caused a micro-vibration, and he could pick it up through the walls. But that grew boring when he realized that SHIELD agents talked about the same boring things everyone else talked about when they were at work: their wives or girlfriends, their husbands or boyfriends, their kids, what they were planning this weekend, the weather, and which sports teams won and lost, movies Xander had never heard of, television shows Xander had never heard of. Same old stuff.

He slept as much as he could, but a combination of Kryptonian physiology, which didn't need much sleep anyway compared to human beings, and getting bored with sleeping, something Xander never thought possibly, even sleeping lost its luster. Even worse than getting bored with sleep were the dreams. He was having dreams of Buffy and Willow and Giles, and in these dreams his friends were having all sorts of adventures with some vaguely familiar new guy. He dreamed that Buffy had slept with Angel, and the vampire had lost his soul and turned evil again. He dreamed that Willow had found a boyfriend, lost the boyfriend, and found a girlfriend. He dreamed of the Mayor of Sunnydale turning into a huge snake, of a Frankenstein monster, and a god disguised as a fashion model.

And then came the dream where Buffy had sacrificed her life to save everyone. It was only a dream, but it still gave him the willies. And so even sleeping lost its charms.

He'd asked Agent Dunne for a toothbrush, and was given a small kit that had a hotel-sized bar of soap, a soft plastic tube of toothpaste, and a rubber toothbrush that bent to a ridiculous angle if he put too much pressure on it. When he asked Dunne about the weird toothbrush, the agent had calmly and patiently explained that it had been specifically designed for use by prisoners. It was just stiff enough to be useful to clean your teeth, but soft enough that no amount of work on the part of the prisoner would turn it into a shiv. And it turned out that the plastic one-use tube of toothpaste was water soluble. Again, so it couldn't be weaponized by a prisoner. It creeped Xander out, but at least giving taking a long shower and brushing his teeth occupied him for about half an hour every day.

Bored, bored, bored, bored.

**XxxxxxX**

And on the third day, the psychiatrist arrived. Agent Dunne had come into his cell with four other agents. Two stood by the door, their hands worryingly on their weapons, while the other two approached. They were carrying what looked to Xander like shackles.

 

Turned out they were shackles. At Agent Dunne's instruction, Xander stood perfectly still while one agent put the metal cuffs around both of his ankles. The other agent cuffed his hands; thankfully, his hands were cuffed to his front and not behind his back. A set of metal bars were put into place between his ankles, with another set between his wrists. These hampered his ability to walk, and made it almost impossible to move his hands together usefully. And then one of the agents ran a chain from the ankles to his hands and then up to his neck. And then they sat him down at the table in his cell, and chained his ankles to the bench, which itself was bolted to the floor. They really didn't want him moving during the psychiatrist's visit.

 

His memories of Power Girl told Xander that he could get out of these cuffs in less than a second if he wanted to, but he'd promised to be cooperative in exchange for eventually being let go, so he was cooperative. As easy as escape would be, he really didn't have a beef with SHIELD, and didn't want to be on their bad side. As expected, Agent Dunne carefully explained that the restraints were for the safety of the visiting psychiatrist. Xander couldn't fault their reasoning, and wasn't really in the mood to cause trouble, so he put up with it.

He couldn't help but laugh when the man finally arrived. Impressively tall. Taller, in fact, than the body's own six feet, two inches. Muscled like a professional wrestler. And green hair. Bright green hair. He couldn't help it. He laughed. While he was laughing, the doctor settled himself on the other side of Xander's table with a note pad and a couple of pens, and waited for the laughter to die down.

When Xander was finished, the doctor smiled and said, “Well. You're in a good mood. This is great. Care to share the joke?”

“Oh sure. It’s nothing personal, I promise. It’s just that when they told me a psychiatrist was coming to evaluate me. I never in a thousand years thought it would be Doc Samson!”

“Oh, you've heard of me?”

**XxxxxxX ******


	5. … While You're Busy Making Other Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“The assistance of counsel is one of the safeguards of the Sixth Amendment deemed necessary to insure fundamental human rights of life and liberty. The Sixth Amendment stands as a constant admonition that, if the Constitutional safeguards it provides be lost, justice will not still be done.” – **Justice Hugo Black** , writing the majority opinion for Gideon v. Wainwright (372 US 335 1963)._

**XxxxxxX**

The entire thing took three hours. At the end of it, Xander felt emotionally drained. He had to admit that as a psychiatrist, Leonard Samson was a good one. He'd got Xander to open up about his abusive home life, his feelings toward Buffy, Willow, and Giles, his feelings of personal inadequacy, and his fear of never measuring up to his much smarter and more accomplished friends. He'd even talked about the basic loneliness he'd been experiencing ever since showing up in this world.

He wasn't sure what was going to come of it, but Xander felt good about his talk with the doctor. But even so, he hadn't survived the Hellmouth without being cautious. The agents came into the cell to release him from his restraints as the doctor left, but Xander didn't pay them any more attention than he had to. Instead, he followed Leonard Samson's journey through the building with his x-ray vision, and consciously cranked his hearing up to the point that he was hearing every single vibration in the building. By the time Samson stopped in someone's office, Xander had managed to isolate every sound he heard except those made by the psychiatrist. And shortly thereafter, the people the doctor was talking to.

He recognized Agent Dunne's voice and was quickly able to figure out which one of the three other people in the office she was. The other two he didn't recognize.

**XxxxxxX**

No one said anything as Agent Dunne handed out coffee, then settled into the couch next to Samson. Agent Understone tapped a pen on his desk idly as Copella made himself comfortable leaning up against a wall. When everyone was settled, Understone finally spoke.

“So. What do you think of our 'Mister' Harris, Doctor?”

Samson took a deep breath. “She's a loon.”

“A loon? Is that a technical term, Doc?” Copella couldn't help but chuckle. Even the normally taciturn Dunne had a slight grin on her face.

“Oh, you want technical terms? All right.” Samson was very careful to avoid calling the girl a patient; if she was his patient, he couldn't tell them the results of his evaluation due to Doctor-Patient privilege. “The individual demonstrates a paranoid psycho-dissociative and disaffective pathology with an overly intricate world construct. That make it any clearer for you, Agent Copella?”

“Okay, so she's crazy.” Copella said, still chuckling.

“I'd say so. She's utterly delusional and separated from reality. She constructed a fantasy life for herself that was more attractive to her than the real one, and jumped right in with both feet. And I should tell you, this is great stuff. I could make a career out of this poor girl. And the amazing thing about her psychosis is that absolutely none of it requires a shred of proof. She even admits she can't prove what she's saying, but doesn't care because she knows it’s true. Most paranoid delusions are intricate, but this one? This one is a masterpiece.”

“I've heard a lot of stories from prisoners, but 'I'm a refugee from another dimension where a TV show is real' is a new one.” Understone just shook his head.

“Me too,” Samson admitted. “Now, if it was just a claim about being from an alternate dimension, I wouldn't necessarily dismiss it. Reed Richards has basically proven that alternate realities exist, and the Avengers have been to a couple, and I think that Blackhawk guy was from one, or something. So it’s not the claim of being from an alternate universe that is the problem.”

“Let me guess,” Copella pressed against the wall he was leaning against, straightening up. He pulled on his jacket's tails to fix the shoulders. “The problem is, she claims she's from a television show.”

“That's actually less weird than it could be. The Avengers once met a bunch of superheroes who only exist here in comic books. There were differences, but the characters were quite close to the comics. So technically I suppose it’s possible that there's a universe out there that resembles a television series. But no, the problem is, we know she's not from there. Her identity's been confirmed by evidence. She's from here. If there wasn't any record of this girl, anywhere, then there might be an argument that she's from some other dimension.”

“So, Doc, I mean – did my job just get harder?” Agent Dunne shifted in her seat and sipped the coffee. “If she's crazy, is she going to be a danger to my people?”

“Actually, I don't think so. I think she's going to turn out to be one of those rare functional schizophrenics. It happens every so often. Sure, they're crazy, but they've found a way to mesh their insanity with the actual world and thus can function as a contributing member of society. Ever see that movie about what's-his-name? The schizophrenic mathematician? You know, the one that won the Oscar, and starred that guy from 'Gladiator?' Anyway, the mathematician they based that story on was a real guy, and really was schizophrenic, and he had a brilliant career despite being utterly nuts.”

This made Copella chuckle again. “Nuts? Doc, you have to stop using these big medical terms.”

This made Samson smile. “What I mean is that, sure, she believes she's a character in a television show. But if she didn't make a point of telling every Tom, Dick, and Harry she met on the street, that kind of crazy wouldn't keep her from holding down a job, or associating with other people on a normal basis. Hell, if she found someone who knew about her psychosis, was prepared to put up with it, and was dedicated to her enough to go through with putting up with it, she could even have a satisfying love life for all I know. It’s happened before.”

Samson paused before continuing, as if double-checking his own thought processes. “Will she get violent if her fantasy is challenged, like some schizophrenics? No. I don't think so. I think if you were to challenge the idea that she was really some guy from a TV show, stuck inside a female body, she'd roll her eyes at you as if you were an idiot and just keep doing what she's doing. Her delusion is that much ingrained. She's going to be a hard nut to crack for whichever therapist ends up with her as a patient.”

“We noticed – well, Agent Copella noticed, actually – that some of the things she told you weren't from the show.” Understone said. “What's up with that?”

“Really? I wouldn't have recognized that. I never watched that show when it was on. I suspect that she's using her own history to fill in the holes that the show's back story doesn't cover. I didn't get enough of a background to tell for sure, but I'd be willing to bet good money on her being abused by her father and neglected by her mother. I'm thinking her dad really was the drunken bruiser she described him as. Ms. Starr probably sees her mother as an enabler. A neglectful contributor to the abuse who should have done something about it but never did. Never stood up for her daughter. So, Mom is being just as bad as dad.”

“Think there's sexual abuse?”

“No telling.” Samson shrugged. “I think she had some sort of traumatic experience, but I don't know what precisely. She gave no indicator that she was molested by either of her parents, but the fact that she denies her own physical gender yet simultaneously does not identify as transgendered tells me that there is some psychological resistance to the idea of being female.” The psychiatrist sat back and sipped at his coffee. “It’s trite and soap-opera-ish, but it’s entirely possible that her resistance to the idea of being female is grounded in some sexual trauma. A rape maybe? I don't know –” He put his cup down on the table next to him. “This is the problem with evaluations. I don't have enough depth to say for certain what the cause of the problem is.”

Understone nodded. It was about what he expected. “All right. Thanks, Doc. I'll make sure the check gets to you as soon as possible. In the meantime, Dunne, let's get her on the registry and get her into the lab for testing. I'll shoot the results of the evaluation upstairs; hopefully it won't take long to hear back about what the boss wants done with her.” With that, Samson stood, shook hands all around, and left with Agent Dunne as an escort out of the building.

Three floors down, Xander sat and wondered what all that had meant. The doctor hadn't accepted his explanations, and thought he was making up his story. The people holding him thought that he was a girl who was insane rather than the truth.

Thing is, he could see where they were coming from. “Well – when you hear hoof beats, you think horses, not zebras. And I'm not just a zebra, I'm a zebra with a unicorn horn and Pegasus wings,” he muttered. The sound of his own voice echoed loudly in his head, and he willed his hearing back down to its normal level. Xander pondered the meaning of being on a registry, and then began worrying about the nature of the tests they planned on putting him through. He was still looking to be cooperative, because the agents had all said cooperation would get him released. He just wondered how many more hoops he'd have to jump before they thought he'd been cooperating enough.

He threw himself onto the bunk and lay there, staring up at the ceiling. “Why, oh why, couldn't you have been thrown into a fictional universe where people aren't as paranoid? I bet nobody in the _Brady Bunch_ universe would have thrown me in jail just for existing.”

Eventually, the boredom caused him to fall asleep.

**XxxxxxX**

He'd been staring out the window of his cell, just enjoying the feeling of the sunlight hitting his skin, when the speakers in his ceiling made that ‘we're turning on’ squeak. Agent Shemp, sitting behind the one-way glass on the other side of the room, had something to say to Xander. Using his x-ray vision to look through the mirroring on the glass was different from looking through walls, so he could see Shemp almost perfectly. Doing this, Xander got detail instead of – well – an x-ray view, but everything did look grayed out and monochromatic.

“Sit down on the bench facing away from the door with your hands holding the table behind you and your ankles cross.” Ah. Someone was coming. This was the standard security precaution they ordered every time someone came into the cell. Supposedly, the few seconds it would take for him to get out of this awkward position would be long enough for them to close the door before he could get out. If only they knew.

There were three separate agents assigned around the clock to keep an eye on him. Xander called them Agents Moe, Larry, and Shemp. At one point, there had been an Agent Curly, a young woman who looked far too young, in Xander's opinion, to be a SHIELD agent. Xander had spent one afternoon so bored out of his mind that he stared at her for a couple of hours, just watching everything she was doing. He hadn’t done that again. The young woman had been so unnerved by his 'accidentally looking right where she was sitting,' no matter where she sat or worked, that she'd never come back to observation duty. Xander cut it out for fear of giving the game away, and shortly after that, Agent Curly was replaced by Agent Shemp.

“Xander, I brought some papers.” It was Agent Dunne. Xander held his place until he heard the door close and lock behind her. Then he turned around in place. The agent had already sat and was fanning through a small stack of papers in a manila folder. “These are for your registration with the Metahuman Affairs Agency. There are also some medical waivers that say you are granting us permission to run some tests to gauge the exact extent of your powers and abilities.”

“What kind of tests are we talking about?” Xander asked. A sudden image of being strapped down to a surgical table as a deranged robot slowly chopped him into cutlets flashed through his mind. “Nothing painful, I hope?”

“Did you ever take a physical fitness test in school?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Did a bunch of sit ups and push-ups and pull-ups. I think we eve ran a hundred-yard dash.” Xander squinted. “You mean those sorts of test?”

“Basically.” Agent Dunne smiled primly. “There are some – interesting – variations but for the most part yeah, it’s basically going to be a PT test. We're also going to check on your reaction time, and give you an eye exam and a hearing test. Get a baseline body temperature. See if we can get any readings on your blood pressure and your resting heart rate, things like that. To tell you the truth, I don't think we're going to get much in the way of biometrics from you.” At Xander's askance look, she added, “They already tried, while you were unconscious, and got very little.”

Xander wasn't sure what 'biometrics' were, but he didn't bother asking. He accepted the first packet of papers from her, along with a pen. Xander noticed the trend again; the pen she gave him was a cheap Bic; it would write, but if he tried to turn it into a weapon it would probably bend out of shape or shatter into pieces too small and unwieldy and fragile to be useful. He started filling out the top form with his name, his birthday, where he was from, and so on. But shortly he stopped and stared at the sheet. “What is this, Agent Dunne?”

“What is what?”

“Code name? They're asking for a code name?”

Dunne shrugged. “Most superhumans have a code name, even the ones who aren't active superheroes tend to come up with one.”

He stared at her for a moment. She merely stared back, smiling. “Am I required to have one?” He really didn't want to be a superhero. Despite the powers, his plan was to find a way to get back to Sunnydale. He wasn't going to waste his time trying to beat down the Hulk or Ultron or anything.

“Well – yes and no. You're not required to pick one, but if you don't pick one yourself the MAA will assign you one anyway, and you might not like the one they come up with.”

Xander's eyebrows lifted. “Really? How do you mean?”

“Really. I've see a file on a woman in Camden. She's in her forties, married, a housewife. Her code name is 'Backhoe.' And there's another guy down in Savannah. He's in his sixties, retired Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant, decorated war hero who served in Viet Nam. He got stuck with 'Mister Rainbow' as his code name. So yeah. You might want to think about what you want to be called.” Dunne tapped the sheet with a fingernail.

“Right.” Xander stared at the sheet a moment. “I'll come back to it.”

Shortly he came to the place where he was supposed to list his various powers. There was a ludicrously long line of check-boxes, with empty space below it marked “Other Powers Not Listed Above.” Agent Dunne noticed the hesitation.

“Complete disclosure of your powers is required. If you develop something new later, you can report it, but if the MAA finds out that you had a power and didn't tell us, it’s considered non-compliance and punishable by jail time and a fine.”

“Uh –” Xander looked from the woman to the form and back. “And what if you don't know about your powers? I mean, you guys were the ones who told me I had them.”

“In that case, leave it blank and we'll fill it out after your testing.”

“Right, the testing.” Xander bent back over the form and started writing again.

The testing began the next day.

**XxxxxxX**

Xander followed Agent Dunne into the room, with three other agents behind her. It was an impressive room, at least three stories tall and mostly filled with strange high-tech machinery. He was led over to one machine that was being fussed with by a man in a lab coat. Xander took the time to look at the gizmo, and realized that what it reminded him of was half of an auto shop's car lift.

Dunne handed the man the file – Xander presumed it was his file – then came back and released Xander's hands from the shackles he'd been wearing followed by carefully removing the collar from around Xander's neck. He rubbed at his wrists a bit, just for show. The cuffs hadn't done him any damage, but there was an image to maintain. Xander couldn't help but notice that the other three SHIELD agents were all standing with their hands on their guns, watching his every move as if they were cats who had just spotted a baby bird.

“Okay.” The man had finally stopped tapping on the controls of the machine and had turned around. He opened the file and read as he spoke. “Okay. Miss... Starr? Miss Starr, I'm Doctor Vosbury; I'm a diagnostic engineer, and that's a fancy way of saying I make sure all these sci-fi movie stuff works. What we're going to – wait.” The man looked from the file to Xander and chuckled. “You're calling yourself Power Girl?” He shook his head. “A bit corny, but I suppose it could be worse.”

Xander just shrugged. “It was the first thing I could think of.” And besides, it fit the body. “And its Harris. Xander Harris.”

The engineer's eyes flicked to Agent Dunne then back to Xander. “Of course. Sorry about that. My mistake. Now, if you could step over here, Miss, um, Harris, we'll begin.” Xander gritted his teeth but didn't say anything. He followed the scientist over to the strange looking machine and waited.

“All right. So –” the engineer positioned himself next to the machine, and put his arms under the flattened crossbar that sat on the top of what looked like two pistons. “What I'd like you to do is stand here, then lift the crossbar like so.” He did just that. The crossbar seemed to lift easily, and Vosbury stepped forward so that it was directly over his head. “There are two pressure pads on the underside of the bar; those are a safety measure, so it’s important that you keep your hands on the pressure pads while you do this. So anyway, you lift it like this and stand here. I'll turn on the machine and the test will begin. With me so far?”

Xander nodded. He thought he knew where this was going. The question once again popped into his head: just how much did he want SHIELD to know about what this body could do?

“Great! Now once the test starts, the bar will be pulled downward. What we want you to do is hold the bar up against the downward pressure for as long as you can. The longer you go, the heavier the bar will feel. If at any time the weight becomes too heavy for you, just pull your arms down. When the pressure is off the pads I told you about, the pistons lock in place so the bar doesn't come down and hit you in the head.” Vosbury pulled his arms down quickly, and like he said, the pistons stayed where they were. “This first test is just to roughly find out how much you can lift over your head. The next will be to find out how long you can hold it.

“So, um, how heavy does it get?”

Vosbury grinned. “Well, this system was devised by Reed Richards to test the Thing's strength levels. If I remember correctly, the last time it was measured the Thing could lift something like sixty or seventy tons and hold it over his head for nearly fifteen minutes.”

“Okay. That's cool. Um. Another question, how fast does it get really heavy?”

Vosbury blinked. “I usually don't get asked that question. It’s an interesting question, though, isn't it?” The man was enthusiastic. Clearly, the techno-geek was proud of his toys. “I think it varies. I mean, I had Captain America in here once and it took him about ten seconds to get to his maximum capacity. Thor took nearly four minutes to get to the point where he was straining.”

Agent Dunne cleared her throat. “Let's just get on with it, shall we?”

“Right.” Vosbury stepped to a control panel on the machine, and the pistons slowly lowered with the hiss of escaping pressure. The engineer then gave Xander the 'after you' gesture toward the machine. Still wondering how he was going to handle this, Xander stepped into place and lifted the crossbar over his head.

“Agent Dunne, if you'd step back please.” Vosbury said, then turned back to the control panel. “All right, Ms., um, Harris. We're going to start the test in 5, 4, 3, 2, begin.”

Xander didn't notice any difference in the weight of the crossbar. After a few seconds, he sort-of shook himself mentally and started a count in his head. _One Mississippi, Two Mississippi, Three Mississippi..._ Xander's thoughts were a muddle, but one thing he remembered from Giles' endless lectures was that you never let a potential enemy know your true strengths and weaknesses. The thought _All war is deception_ filtered in from somewhere. Maybe from the Power Girl memories. Either way, he wasn't about to tell these people just how strong he really was. It was the same reason why he pretended his powers were gone when they put him in the nullifying collar.

_Forty Mississippi, Forty-One Mississippi, Forty-Two Mississippi_

He figured maybe making it to some odd, unpredictable number like fifty-seven, or even sixty-three seconds would be enough. A voice in the back of his head was telling him that if he made it a nice round number, someone would notice. No stopping at a minute even, or even at any number divisible by ten or five.

_Fifty-Nine Mississippi, Sixty Mississippi, Sixty-One Mississippi, Sixty-Two Mississippi_

At a count of fifty-nine, Xander had given his arms a little bit of a tremor, and at sixty-two he'd done the same for his legs. It wasn't a hard thing to fake, and it gave him some credibility when he stopped at Sixty-Seven Mississippi. Xander dropped his arms, literally dropped them, figuring it would enhance the image, and abruptly sat down on the floor.

Agent Dunne came over and knelt next to Xander. “Are you okay? Want some water or something?” When he nodded, she handed Xander a bottle and he drank some from it, then dumped the rest of it over his head, as if he was cooling himself down. He was hoping that Dunne hadn't noticed his distinct lack of perspiration.

“Okay, very cool. Successful test.” Vosbury was writing something down on one of those tricorder computer pads everyone in SHIELD seemed to be using. “For the record, um, Power Girl, you can apparently lift nearly seven tons over your head.” He tapped on the machine's keyboard and a list popped up. “So, out of all the people we tested with this machine, you're right in between – hmmm – Beast and Spider-Man. Not too shabby.”

Xander took another drink from the bottle, then looked over to Agent Dunne. “What other tests are on the schedule for today?”

**XxxxxxX**

The rest of the tests were of a similar nature, and Xander floated through all of them. The easiest to fake were the sensory tests. The hardest was the treadmill. They put Xander on a treadmill with some breathing apparatus in his mouth, measuring his air intake. And then they slowly increased speed on the treadmill. Xander kept up with it until he got tired of the whole exercise and stopped running, but the nature of the test made it hard to pretend that he wasn't capable of not just running at over 40 miles an hour, but could keep it up nearly indefinitely. They figured out the indefinitely part from his breathing patterns apparently. It was at this point that Xander really began to consider panicking. Just flat out panicking.

The tests took just under two weeks to complete. And for four days after that, nothing much happened. Xander returned to his state of perpetual boredom, watching children's cartoons and gameshow reruns on the television, and watching a city (he presumed it was New York; he thought he recognized one of the sky scrapers) go by outside his window.

Given a choice, Xander preferred the tests.

**XxxxxxX**

Three weeks crawled when your life was this heavily regimented. Agent Dunne had negotiated with her boss on his behalf, and Xander had been allowed to go to the gym the agents used once a week. The weights hadn't interested him, or the treadmills, but the place also had four racquetball courts. Sure, he was forced to play by himself, and he was under constant surveillance by a pair of snipers, but even with being completely self-taught, he was getting pretty good at racquetball.

He was also becoming a dab hand at solitaire. Xander was, in fact, in the middle of a game of Clocks when he was notified that someone was coming into his cell. He put his cards down and assumed the position, and shortly thereafter Agent Dunne and four of her people came in.

“Good morning, Agent Dunne! Surprised to see you here. You usually don't come by on Tuesdays.” The Agent didn't respond, and she wasn't smiling. In fact, she looked vaguely pissed off. And she was holding a set of shackles. Xander reviewed everything that had happened over the past couple of days and couldn't think of anything that would have got him into trouble. “Is everything all right?”

Dunne took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “No, everything isn't all right. You're being transferred, and we need to take you down to processing. Stand up, please.”

Xander stood, wondering what was going on. He didn't resist when his hands were shackled; he was used to being shackled up when he left the cell. But after his wrists were bound, Dunne motioned to one of the other agents, who started working on Xander's ankles.

“Hey, wait... I haven't had to... you haven't put me in ankle chains since the second day of testing. You said it was a reward for good behavior. I haven't messed up or broken a rule or anything, so what's going on?” During his stay with SHIELD, Xander hadn't been a complete line-toer necessarily, but he hadn't been the blatant rebel against all authority that Buffy had been. His first reaction was to go along to get along, and cooperate with people until cooperation turned out to be useless. And when that happened, his instinct was to get out from under the authority as quickly as possible.

So, as he felt his ankles being bound, there was a voice in the back of his head reminding him that, if he wanted, he could leave at any time and there was almost nothing these nice young SHIELD agents could do about it. For all that he hated the fact that he was living in a female body, the female body was a _Kryptonian_ female body, for crying out loud, so why was he putting up with this? He tamped down on those thoughts. He was worried, but not yet to the point that he was going to risk bringing SHIELD down on his head with an escape.

If he was going to be stuck in the Marvel Universe for a while, and he had been operating on the assumption that he was going to be stuck here for a while, he was sure he didn't want to live as an escaped fugitive. Especially a super-powered escaped fugitive. Not in a universe where Iron Man and Captain America tended to beat on escaped fugitives. Not to mention the government. The government in this universe, if he remembered collectively, had their own pretty heavy resources when it came to hunting down fugitives. An image of the Sentinel robots attacking the X-Men popped into his head, and he had to suppress a shudder.

Of course, nothing he could think of in the Marvel Universe could possibly handle a Kryptonian who didn't want to be handled outside of cosmic beings like the Silver Surfer and godlike ones like the Molecule Man, but it was always possible he was forgetting something. And besides, he didn't want to live constantly looking over his shoulder. Hence the cooperation.

“Am I going to, like, see a judge now? Couple of weeks ago, you said that my case was being reviewed and I'd have to see a judge –” He’d mostly slept through civics, but his long history as a watcher of pretty much all television had taught him certain things about due process. And she had told him his case was being reviewed.

Dunne finally met his eyes. “Something like that. Let's go.”

Xander heard he heartbeat speed up. The temperature of her face increased by four degrees. And she was holding her eyes directly on Xander's by force of will. She was lying about something. Dunne took him by the arm and led him out of the cell. Two of the agents walked in front of them, and two behind, and Xander could see at least four other agents lingering around in sight. None of them were acting like they did when they took him down to play racquetball. During those transfers, they were careful, but at least they projected good will, as if they recognized that Xander wasn't a problem prisoner and thus they could afford to be at least a little nice to him. These were the same agents, but all the courtesy and good will he'd earned by cooperating had been thrown out the window.

The group shuffled toward the elevator as best they could, given Xander's limited range of movement.

**XxxxxxX**

Xander was led into a bare, badly lit room that someone had decided to paint a sickly green. The walls and the ceiling were all the same shade of green. It gave the room a dark cast, and made it seem like the lights in the ceiling were bad, or perhaps out of focus somehow. The only furniture in the room was a wide metal table surrounded by chairs. The chairs were just chairs, but the table was interesting. Xander's X-Ray vision couldn't penetrate it, and he could see that the legs of the table extended into the floor a good way.

There were four men and a woman already in the room. They stood as Xander entered. Two more of those one-way-glass windows took up the walls to the right and left. It took Xander less than a second to count the people who were moving around behind them. Whatever was going on, it was being witnessed by twelve hidden people and four cameras. He thought he recognized two of the people behind the windows as the men who Dunne answered to. Another was one of the doctors who'd come in to check on his health while he was in the cell. And one of them was Leonard Samson.

The only other feature of note was a door on the far side of the room, behind the table.

Interesting.

Xander took all of this in quickly. He was being pushed forward toward one of the chairs at one end. Agent Dunne gestured toward one chair. “Sit down, please. Place your hands flat on the table.” Xander followed her directions, and only then noticed that the table, where he was sitting, had a divot-shaped depression in its surface. His wrist-restraints were clipped to a short chain connected to a ring hidden in the divot, and Xander realized he was now chained to the table. He couldn't raise his hands more than two or three inches above its surface. With Xander in place, the others all took their places. One of the men sat behind what looked like a shrunken typewriter; the others shuffled papers around from various files.

The man on the far side of the table turned to Typewriter Boy and said, “On the record.” He cleared his voice and then spoke as if he was reading off the nightly news. “Disposition hearing for Federal Prisoner 011894-O6L, one Karen Linda Starr. The time is –” the man stopped talking long enough to check his watch. “The time is 4:12 pm, and its 11 August 2007. Judge James K. Nightlinger presiding. Prosecutor is Daniel Posthelwhite. Emma James is the appointed representative of the defendant.”

“Um, wait. I have a lawyer? I haven't talked to any –”

“Young lady, be quiet unless you're being asked a direct question.” The man, who Xander presumed was Judge Nightlinger, didn't even look up from the file as he spoke. “I advise you to keep your mouth shut and let your attorney do the talking.” Without looking up the judge nodded toward the person sitting next to Xander. Presumably, this was Emma James, attorney-at law. Xander had never met her before in his life, and the fact that this Emma person was now looking at Xander like she'd just discovered a roach in her corn flakes did not fill Xander with good feelings at all.

“You've both read the evaluation results?” The judge continued, glancing over his glasses at two of the people sitting across from him. Xander's attorney and one of the other men, both nodded. “Recommendations?”

“It’s pretty clear that Ms. Starr is delusional. Doctor Samson's diagnosis was schizophrenia. Given her power level, she's a danger to those around her. We want her remanded.”

“Hey!” Xander interjected. His lawyer put a hand on his arm and gave him a warning glance that was seconded by the judge. He wasn't sure what remanded meant, but it sounded suspiciously like 'put in jail.'

“Your Honor, Doctor Samson also said that she's a functional schizophrenic and thus not likely a danger to anyone. He even cited several contributing members of society who –”

“None of whom can lift a pickup truck over their heads.” The man interrupted.

“He's got a point, Emma. How do we know that this young lady won't snap and start beating people to death with her bare hands?” The judge sat back and sighed. “I'm leaning toward granting the prosecution's request.”

“Hold on! Wait! You're supposed to be letting me go!” Everyone at the table turned to look at Xander. “That was the deal! I cooperated, went through some tests, was a good boy, registered with the government, and you'd let me go.” Xander's attorney started to say something, but Xander ignored her. “That was the deal, Judge.”

The judge's expression didn't change. “Miss Starr, I don't know who told you what, but there wasn't any deal. There never was any deal. Your final disposition is in my hands, and for all that you are acting in a reasonable manner now, you have been found to be mentally incompetent by a qualified expert. Combine that with your physical abilities, I find that you are a potential danger to yourself and to others, and thus am remanding you to the care of an appropriate facility where you will be treated.” The man took a deep breath and let it out in a long weary sigh. “If, at some time in the future you become mentally sound, your disposition will be reconsidered.”

Xander was shaking his head. “That's not fair. That's not fair at all. I did everything I was asked, and was promised I'd be let go. You people – you people are going back on your word.”

“Miss Starr –” the judge began.

“Harris! My name is Harris!” Xander was almost yelling at this point.

“And that's what I am talking about, Miss Starr. You think you're a character in a television show. I can't let you out where you can hurt other people. I'm sorry.” With that, the judge stood, turned, and left the room through the door on the other side of the table.

The other people were all standing up, too. “Okay, so we'll finish the paperwork this afternoon, and she can be shipped tomorrow morning, I suppose.” The 'prosecutor,' whose name Xander heard but hadn't caught, was talking about shipping him off as if he was a basket of fruit or something. “Sound good to you?”

“Fine.” His attorney responded. “I'll have –”

“No! Not fine!” Xander yelled. “I've played it straight with all of you people, and now you're shoving me into a psycho ward and going back on your word! I've been sitting on my butt bored to tears because I knew I'd be walking out of here eventually! You can't keep me here! I've got rights!”

Everyone stared at him like he just grew a second head. Agent Dunne approached, obviously trying to calm him down. “Okay, Xander, just take a deep breath. It’s not as bad as you think.”

“Yeah? Why should I believe you? You're one of the liars!” Xander stood up as best he could with his hands still chained to the table. Time to do something about that. There were tears in Xander's eyes. He hated being played for a sucker. Maybe this was why he never liked Marvel Comics. The whole universe was filled with pricks and assholes. Even the heroes were a bunch of arrogant shits. “My name really is Alexander Lavelle Harris. I really was born in Sunnydale, California. And yeah, I really am stuck in a girl's body.”

Agent Dunne began, once again trying to get control over the situation. Her hand was on her pistol. “Xander, if you don't sit back down, we'll –”

“No! No more directions. No more instructions, no more orders. Not from you, Agent Dunne. Dunne – heh – yeah, we're done all right.” And with that, Xander straightened his back and _**PULLED**_.

**XxxxxxX**

“Holy shit! Are you seeing this, boss?” Bart Copella could not believe what he was watching. The girl had simply stood up and yanked, causing the adamantium-osmium alloy attaching the shackles around her wrists to first bend like it was taffy and then finally snap. “How in the fuck is she doing that! We tested her! That would take, like, Hulk-level strength!”

“Yeah, well, apparently, she cheated on the test.” Understone picked up the black phone and tapped zero. As soon as he heard a click, he spoke. “This is Understone. Lock down the facility. I need security in Interrogation Four now!” Without waiting for an answer, he disconnected, then punched the number for the other observation room. “Yeah, tell Samson to get his ass in there and subdue that prisoner.

**XxxxxxX**

“Xander stop!” Agent Dunne had drawn her weapon and pointed it right at Xander’s face. Xander didn't even blink. He pulled his arms apart and the chains holding the shackles stretched and snapped.

“Agent Dunne, it’s been a pleasure. You seem like a nice person and under different circumstances we could have been buds. But I'm not listening to you anymore.” He bent over and pulled his ankle chains apart. When he straightened up, he turned toward her, just in time for her to pull the trigger. The pistol used by Agent Dunne was not a standard firearm, and did not rely on gunpowder or a chemical reaction to propel its ammunition. Rather, it used a highly engineered magnetic accelerator to push its adamantium-tipped bullet to nearly twice the speed of sound. When fired, the bullet could penetrate a rather prodigious amount of concrete, and had proven capable of at least stunning some of the most indestructible of earth's superhuman criminals.

There was a loud _**CHOCK-WHAM**_ as the hyper-bullet left the pistol's muzzle. It hit Xander, who was still straightening up, at an angle and ricocheted straight up into and through the ceiling. The sound of the bullet ricocheting from Xander's body was even louder than the sound of the weapon being fired. Xander felt like Buffy had just given him one of her patented just-strong-enough-to-hurt 'you're being a goof' punches. It ached a little, but was fading fast, and that's all. If that was as hard as the bullets from the SHIELD agents' guns hit, he could take it as long as he needed to. Agent Dunne pulled the trigger twice more, and the hyper-bullets ricocheted away in random directions. One smashed through the one-way glass of the observation room to the left.

“Jesus, lady! Stop! You'll hurt somebody!” Xander yelled. “I mean – someone else!” He snatched the pistol out of her hands and crumbled it to scrap in his hand. He casually tossed the remains of her weapon aside and went to work on the nullifier collar, which obviously hadn't been nullifying anything at all. As he did, the civilians in the room scrambled for the doors as quickly as they could, while the SHIELD agents moved in.

Agent Dunne, deprived of her firearm, whipped out a telescoping rod, took a half step, and brought he weapon down across the back of Xander's legs. Xander didn't even feel it. He finished prying off the collar and tossed it aside casually. Dunne brought the rod across Xander's face to the same lack of effect, causing Xander to just roll his eyes at her. “You're more likely to hurt yourself than you're ever going to hurt me, Agent Dunne. What's next? You gonna use some Kung Fu on me?”

Agent Dunne stopped and stood there, unsure how to proceed. “What are you going to do? Please, don't hurt anyone.” She looked around at the other agents, who were standing there, looking confused and ineffectual. They'd seen Dunne's attempts to subdue the prisoner, and just how little effect they'd had. None of them were looking to get injured.

“What am I going to do? I'm leaving. That's all.” Xander looked around, then pointed toward the door. He'd taken three steps toward it when suddenly the doorway was filled. Doc Samson had arrived. Xander pulled up short as the man entered the room. “Doc, I'm leaving now. Don't do anything stupid, because I don't want to hurt anyone.” He held his hands up, trying to get the man to stand down.

Samson wasn't having any of it. “You're not going anywhere.” He leapt forward and grabbed Xander around the wrist, then pulled, obviously trying to make her off-balance. Xander didn't move an inch. With his free hand, he calmly reached up and began applying pressure to Samson's thumb, trying to break the man's grip without breaking the man's bones. Samson growled, literally growled, and swung his other fist around. The punch caught Xander across the jaw. Xander blinked, then continued prying Samson's fingers from his arm. Samson punched him twice more but stopped as Xander twisted Samson's wrist around. Xander grabbed onto the man's belt and lifted him bodily off the ground before tossing him through the shattered observation room window and into the far wall on the other side. Samson's body made a visible indentation in the concrete before he fell to the floor.

Xander had just turned back to the door when a pair of gas grenades landed right at his feet. Swiftly, a grayish-white smoke filled the room. The agents, who'd still been standing there useless during Xander's tussle with Doc Samson dropped to the floor, crying and snotting up, and in at least one case losing total control over their bladder. Xander gently picked up the grenades, which were still spewing smoke, and carefully examined them for a moment. Then he pinched the release valves closed. That stopped them from spewing any more gas, but did nothing about the gas already released.

Xander stepped out into the hallway where he was met by eight new agents. The barbed projectiles from two different tasers bounced off his skin as the extendable baton of a third agent rebounded against the back of his head so hard the agent wielding it had to drop it. As with the agents in the interrogation room, the reinforcements just stood there confused as soon as they realized that there was nothing they could do to stop Xander from escaping. Xander looked the hall up and down, then scanned through the walls into the rooms around him. Stepping to the wall on the east side of the corridor, he punched through it as easily as he might pop a soap bubble, stepping through into the next room. The walls, it turned out, looked like concrete but were just cinderblock and drywall. Not that it would have mattered.

“Okay, I'm officially a fugitive who has escaped custody from a gigantic multi-national crime-fighting organization. What am I going to do next?” The thought _I'm going to Disney World_ immediately popped into his head and he giggled. The sound of it stopped him for a moment. He hadn't laughed with serious humor since he woke up, and this is how he sounded? It wasn't even a real laugh, it was a giggle!

There was a loud series of pops behind him as an agent who hadn't got the memo tried to shoot him with a standard pistol. “Would you assholes stop shooting me!?! You're just going to hurt yourself!” He broke a hole through the next wall, finding himself in some sort of conference room with windows. He stopped to take in the view, nothing that the building he was in overlooked the water. In the distance, he could see the Statue of Liberty. He couldn't tell how high he was. Xander punched the window, shattering it. He was about to step through when he heard Agent Dunne's voice behind him. It was raspy and course, obviously still affected by the tear gas she'd inhaled earlier.

“Xander, stop! Please. Stop!”

It caused Xander to pause. Even if she'd lied to him, Dunne had always been nice and polite and at least tried to treat him with courtesy. Xander turned around with an expectant look on his face. “Yes?”

Dunne started talking, fast. Her eyes were read, and her nose was snotty, and her voice was barely above a raspy whisper. “There's nowhere to run, Xander. We're forty stories up. I don't think you can survive that kind of fall. The Avengers are going to be here any minute now. Stop. Just stop. Surrender, and I promise there won't be any repercussions for your escape attempt.”

“Like you promised me I'd be let go if I cooperated?”

Dunne swallowed guiltily. “I'm sorry about that. When I heard who was hearing your case, I – I'm sorry. But you need to stop. The Avengers will beat you down, and Stark will figure out a way to contain you and you'll still end up in treatment. You need help. You're not well, Xander. You need help.”

“No, I don't. The only help I need is help getting home.”

“It’s okay, Xander, I get it! You're a scared kid who's in over her head. The shock of everything, getting your powers, what was going on with your home life – I get it. I didn't have the best childhood either, Xander. I know how it can be, coming from an abusive home. Please, just don't make it worse for yourself.

Xander took a deep breath and shook his head. “I don't want to fight anyone, and I don't want to be chased. But I'm not crazy. I am who I say I am. And the truth is, when it comes down to it, I can run pretty fast and I'm really good at hiding.”

With that, Xander hopped up onto the window ledge and stepped into the air. He hovered there, just outside the shattered window, and gave Agent Dunne a friendly wave. The agent's eyes were wide with surprise. “Take care of yourself, Agent Dunne. I'd hate for something to happen to you. Even if you lied to me, you were trying to be nice to me, and I won't forget that.”

And with that, Xander Harris flew away.

**XxxxxxX**


	6. The Inevitable Fight That You Knew Was Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“Heroes are ordinary people who know that even if their own lives are impossibly knotted, they can and do untangle somebody else's life. And then that one small act of helping another can lead to someone else rescuing them right back.” – **Jodi Picoult**_

**XxxxxxX**

“This so completely sucks.”

It was the first thing that came to Xander's mind to say. He hated the thought of what he was about to do, but now he really couldn't think of anything else that would help the situation. Come what may, even if he was now out from under SHIELD's custody – for the moment at least – the truth was that he was still wearing a set of neon-orange prisoner clothes, one part of which was a shirt with a big black letter P on its back. He needed to change into some new clothes and he needed to change yesterday.

Sitting on the roof of the New York Public Library, watching the sun go down, Xander contemplated his options. His contemplations didn't get very far, as his options were thus very limited, what with not having any way to pay for new clothing. He thought the situation over, and came to only one real conclusion: he would have to steal something to wear. He hated the idea of becoming a thief, but the other options were just as bad, namely stealing the money to pay for the clothing. So, did he want to become a thief of clothing, or a thief of money?

He found it ironic. He escaped from prison and in the three hours since his escape, he'd decided to become a criminal. It was a joke. A bad one.

He eventually settled on stealing clothing. Money, being money, was multi-purposed, and thus the loss of the money would hurt more than the loss of some merchandise. And he'd limit the thefts to just what he needed right now. He was sure that as a massively powerful superhuman, he'd have no problem getting some sort of temp job to live on while he figured out how to get home. Something would turn up.

It wasn't a plan he was proud of, but it was a plan.

**XxxxxxX**

Natasha Romanova brushed her hand around the oval-shaped hole that the escapee had left in the SHIELD facility's wall. This one had been a reinforced concrete load-bearing wall, not the cinder-block and drywall of the inner partitions. Their escapee had to be strong on the same level that Thor and the Hulk was strong.

“Okay, so what you're telling me is that this mutant girl whose been asleep for the past six months suddenly woke up and wrecked the place.” The Widow glanced over her shoulder at Iron Man. Tony Stark was talking to some SHIELD agent named Understone, who was notably embarrassed by the entire thing.

“That would just about sum it up, yes.” Understone grimaced. “We had no idea she was this powerful. Every test we performed showed we were dealing with someone about the same power level as Spider-Man. Obviously, she was ducking the test.”

“You think so?” Black Widow muttered under her breath. She stood and dusted the powdered cinder block from her gloves. That was odd. Cement didn't powder normally, even when it broke up. It rendered itself into chunks. For the wall to be reduced to powder under impact, it had to be hit with considerable force. "What was your first clue?"

A low, amazed whistle came from the Widow's right. She turned to watch Wonder Man stick his finger into a hole in the wall up to the third knuckle. “Agent Understone, how many times did you say your agent shot this girl with the Hulk-Buster rounds?” she asked.

Understone seemed hesitant to answer. “Agent Dunne got three rounds off before she was disarmed. Starr yanked the pistol out of her hand before she was able to fire a fourth, and then destroyed it.” Understone mimed crumbling something up in his fist.

“Yeah, probably a good thing all around.” Iron Man looked around, noting the location of the rest of his team. The only one not approaching was Ms. Marvel, and she was still doing depth measurements on the crater Doc Samson left in the wall. The good doctor had been transferred to the hospital floor with a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. “Spider-Man's a Delta. I'd say from the looks of it that she's an Alpha, but that force field you say she has –”

The Avengers leader motioned for his team to assemble, then turned back to Understone. “Okay, so, tell us about her.”

“Karen Starr. Age 17, from Midvale, Ohio. She's got a juvie record. Nothing too extreme, but it’s there. Showed absolutely no evidence of superpowers as she was growing up. Disappeared two years ago, and is believed to have run away. Her parents apparently were happy about that. Their reaction to her being found was to ask us what it would take to keep her here. Samson diagnosed her as a paranoid schizophrenic with dissociative disorder. She thinks she's a character from a television show. Ever hear of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer?_ ”

Iron Man, Wonder Man, and Ms. Marvel nodded their heads, while Natasha shook theirs. Natasha wasn't much of a television watcher. Occasionally a sporting event, or the Olympics, the rare broadcast of a ballet, or a political debate, but not just casual television.

“Well, she's thinks she's really Xander Harris. Won't acknowledge a person named Karen Starr even exists. Samson thinks she was abused as a kid, and her power eruption sent her over the edge.”

“She not only thinks she's a character in a TV show, she thinks she's the comic relief. The male comic relief. Well, that's a new one.” The Widow could feel Stark smirk under his faceplate from where she stood. “Wonder why she didn't decide she was actually Buffy. You know, the hero? Don't people who think they are fictional characters go for the hero?”

“I wouldn't know, really. You'd have to ask Samson once he regains consciousness.”

“Right. In the meantime, we need to find out where this crazy girl is now.” Iron Man said. “I assume she's lojacked. If you give me the frequency –”

But Understone was already shaking his head. “We put one of your nano-transmitters in nearly every single ounce of food we fed her, and it stopped transmitting within seconds of it being swallowed. It was like she was digesting them.”

“Really? Whoa. That's weird.”

Understone snorted. Yeah, a lot of things weird about this girl. She'd spend hours and hours in the afternoon just standing in front of the window. We assumed she was watching the city until we figured out she was standing there with her eyes closed. It was like she was asleep, just soaking up the sunlight.”

“If I'd been kept inside for six months, I'd have done the same thing. I hate being cooped up inside.” Iron Man shrugged. “What were her observable powers?”

Understone consulted a data pad, for a moment. “It looks like a high-impact version of the standard FISS package.” FISS stood for “Flight, Invulnerability, Super-Strength”; studies had shown that, aside from some basic level of super-strength itself, the FISS package, as it was called, was the most common superpower for someone to acquire when they had an Eruption. “Samson grabbed her and rather than punch him, she immediately started working on his fingers. He punched her a couple of times and she didn't even blink, just kept bending his fingers back away from her arm. Almost like she didn't want to hurt him.” Understone waved to the crater in the wall on the far side of the now-exposed observation room. “Still hurt him enough to put him in the hospital. She also didn't react when people shot her, and was unaffected by tear gas. It was almost as if she simply decided to ignore everything we were doing.”

“Flight, Invulnerability, Super-Strength. Right, that makes things interesting.” Iron Man was quiet for a while. Then he turned to the Widow and said, “Widow, you're a girl. If –”

“I'm a girl? Oh, well-spotted.”

“Heh. Yeah. Sorry. So – you're an insane teenage girl from Ohio who suddenly acquired superpowers and this was your first time in the Big Apple. You've just escaped from prison and don't want to get caught. Where would you go first?”

The Widow suppressed a chuckle. “Were it me, and I had access to money? I'd go shopping. Especially if I had to...” She trailed off, staring into the distance as a very specific idea popped into her head. Turning to Understone, the Russian Avenger asked, “You had her in the standard prisoner uniform? Bright orange? Big black P on the back?”

Understone shrugged. “Sure. Why?”

Black Widow didn't answer. She just turned to Iron Man. “I'd go shopping, to change my clothes. But I wouldn't have any money. We need to monitor for petty thefts, muggings, and break-ins at clothing and department stores. If I was a teenage girl, with no money but with a burning need to get out of the bright orange clothes that mark me as a prisoner, I'd be looking to change my wardrobe.”

**XxxxxxX**

He'd spent an hour or two looking for a clothing store that looked like it could afford to lose a set of jeans and a shirt. Most of the clothing places he found looked like small businesses. But he'd finally found a store that he'd heard of, even growing up in California: Macy's Department Store. He stood on the roof overlooking the store, just waiting for the lights to go out. While he waited, Xander watched the people walking by on the streets below. Tons of people. More people than he'd ever seen in one place in his entire life. Even Los Angeles didn't feel this crowded.

Eventually, the lights went out at Macy's and the store went dark, for the most part. He could see though the windows of the store's upper floor that there were still lights on, but this would do. He moved as swiftly as he could without attracting attention, then flash-vaporized the central part of the floor-to-ceiling window with his heat vision. Then he waited. And waited a little longer. He'd intentionally left enough of the outer edges of the windows to foil any contact alarms, and was waiting to see if anyone noticed the hole. When he was convinced that he'd waited enough, he stepped into the store.

The entire place was clothed in shadow, though that wasn't a problem, of course. It did give the entire place a sort of spooky feel. He'd alighted in the woman’s department, and had no real idea where to go to get to clothing he could wear, though. He figured a little looking around was called for. For a moment, he wondered about the sizes associated with the body, but Power Girl's memories whispered them into his mind.

Menswear turned out to be one floor down. Xander took the stairs rather than the elevator.

Within a minute, he'd found what he was looking for. A pack of extra-large white t-shirts, a pack of boxer shorts – he cringed at the price tag before he remembered he was stealing the clothing – and some blue jeans. Xander took a quick look around. None of the guards he'd spotted earlier were nearby, though he had heard the elevator ding. Figuring that staying in one spot was not a good idea, he moved out of menswear and toward men's shoes. He'd need some of those too, and some socks. 

Once in men's shoes, Xander took another quick look around and stripped out of his prison uniform. Just as he stepped into the boxers, the elevator doors had dinged and he heard, rather than saw, a couple of men step out of it. From their muttering, Xander knew he'd been spotted, probably by a security camera. Xander looked around in X-Ray and saw the cameras suddenly; they were hidden under black glass globes that he'd completely ignored when he came into the store. It was very likely they'd spotted him the moment he stepped into the store. He hadn't heard any alarms, though there were sirens in the distance. Xander shook his head and dressed as quickly as he could. He had to admit the jeans and the boxers felt weird when he put them on. They fit, but they sort of didn't. Like they weren't made right or something.

He'd just raised one of the t-shirts over his head when he heard a man's voice call out, “Freeze! Put your arms down and turn around!”

Xander sighed, but he stopped moving. “Which do you want? Do you want me to freeze or do you want me to put my arms down?”

“Put your God-damned arms down and turn around. Now.”

Xander turned, the shirt hanging loose in his hands. The two guards were there, both standing in ready poses with their hands on their sidearms. They were both glaring at him – but as he turned around Xander couldn't help but notice that they weren't concentrating on his face. It puzzled Xander for a moment before he looked down, following the guard's gazes.

“Oh, for crying out – Guys. My eyes are up here, guys.” His boobs. His naked boobs. These two guards were staring at his naked boobs. Xander suddenly felt – he wasn't sure what he was feeling. A mix of anger and embarrassment. In one motion, Xander pulled the shirt over his head and down to cover his chest. Their eye-line broken by the shirt, the guards stopped staring and started looking Xander in the face. Though their eyes would occasionally take sudden, darting trips south. 

The taller guard stepped forward and grasped Xander by the arm, while the other one said, “Okay, we've got her. Bringing he down now,” into a radio microphone clipped to his shoulder. Radio Guard looked around and picked up Xander's now discarded prison uniform, as well as the open packs of t-shirts and underwear.

Tall guard said, “The police are already downstairs. Let's go.” He stepped back and tried to pull Xander along with him. Xander wasn't having any, and the man ended up tripping and falling when the hand around Xander's bicep slipped off.

“Look, guys, it’s a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and some underwear. I owe you. But I'm not going with you, and I certainly am not going to talk to the police. So, adios, okay?” Xander spotted the closest window and headed for it. He made it three or four steps when Radio Guard tried to tackle him from behind.

For all the good it did him.

The man crashed into Xander like he was trying to bring down a concrete pillar. As the guard slid to the floor unconscious and obviously injured, Xander stopped and turned to the other guard. “I want you to know, I didn't cause that. Not my fault – you notice that I didn't even raise my hands, right?” The guard stood wide-eyed, but shook his head. Whether he really understood or was just going along with anything Xander said couldn't be determined. Xander took a couple more steps before he stopped again at a raspy metallic sound that could only be the cocking of a gun.

Xander turned around again. The guard was standing there, with his pistol out and pointed. Xander signed. “If you shoot that thing at me, you're going to endanger not only yourself but your friend in here with a ricochet. And really, I think you need to help your friend more than you need to shoot me; I think he broke one of his collarbones and maybe gave himself a concussion. Get him to a doctor, okay?”

The man continued to stare at Xander for a moment, his gun still up and aimed. Then he blinked twice and seemed to take in his injured partner, and then turned his gaze on his gun. _Good enough._ Xander thought. And he turned again to the window.

Another application of heat vision vaporized the glass. Before he stepped out into the air, he turned and called, “I hope your friend is okay. I didn't mean for him to get hurt. I just needed the clothes.” And with that he stepped out into the air and began flying away.

Xander hadn't really begun to pick up speed when he was struck from behind. He found himself crashing into the ground, the force of the impact causing the tarmac of the street to crack beneath him. A male voice, amplified and heavily modulated with an electronic tinge to it, said, “You were right, Widow, she went for the clothes.”

Xander stood, carefully, and turned. It was Iron Man. The Iron Man. From the comic books. As real as his own hands, and as big as life. A small part of him, the comic book geek who had always wanted to be a superhero was having a joygasm. _How cool was this?!?_ But behind the geek voice was another, quieter voice, telling him to be on his guard and pay attention to his surroundings and calm down. Accompanying Iron Man were three other characters, all of whom he recognized from the Avengers comics. Wonder Man, Ms. Marvel, and Black Widow. The quiet voice at the back of his head, the one that spoke to him when he needed to remember something from Power Girl's life, the voice he thought of as 'Kara' when he thought of it at all, was telling him to pay more attention to Wonder Man than the other three, as if he and only he was a threat.

Very carefully, Xander rose into the air so that he was level with Iron Man. The Avengers tensed as if to attack, but didn't leap into it. As usual, Xander lead with his standard response to stress: humor. “Iron Man. Hey! How are you? Nice to meet you! Wonder Man. Marvel. Widow. How are you guys? You wouldn't happen to know how I could find Doctor Strange, would you?” Xander laughed.

He didn't know if it was out of stress, fear, or simple bravado.

**XxxxxxX**

Inside the iron suit, Tony Stark was feeling nonplussed. He hadn't really known what to expect when they left SHIELD's New York headquarters in pursuit of the escaped prisoner, but he was sure that this presumed fearlessness, this laughter in the face of danger, wasn't it. He was expecting a teenage girl trying to get away from the authorities. The behavior he was seeing seemed more like a veteran soldier who was facing off with the enemy.

And the question. Why would the girl be looking for Stephen Strange?

Starr was just floating there in midair, having recovered from his initial repulsor blast quicker than Stark had seen anyone do outside of Wolverine, Thor, and the Hulk. This fact ran through his head a couple of times, and for a moment he wondered if he'd brought enough guns to the knife-fight. But that feeling passed as he reasserted his own confidence in himself. But the casual 'Hey how you doin’?’ greeting from the girl had put him wrong-footed and he wasn't used to it. One thing was clear: the girl had no idea how much trouble she really was in.

Looking at the her, the first things he noticed was that she was very pretty. On his own personal ratings scale – which he unsurprisingly based on the quality of a magazine's cover models – she was somewhere between Cosmo and Maxim. And she was built like a brick shithouse. While stealing clothes from Macy's she'd had apparently neglected to snag a brassiere – _Yowza, look at her_ – but then he snapped to the fact that in their briefing SHIELD made it very clear that this girl was still a minor. And besides, time was wasting. From the looks on the faces of his teammates, they didn't exactly know how to respond to the girl either. By this point, most criminals had either tried to run or had leaped into an attack. Enough with the speculation and the appreciation of her decidedly ample physical gifts. Time to take control of the situation.

Stark raised one of his gauntleted hands and lit the repulsor in its palm, just enough to show he was ready to shoot. “Okay, Miss Starr, fun-time's over. Time for you to surrender and play nice. We don't want this to get messy, now, do we?”

The girl didn't even blink. “You want to take me back to SHIELD, don't you?”

Iron Man rolled his eyes. “You are an escaped fugitive, Miss Starr. What do you think?”

The girl huffed. “My name is Xander Harris. I don't know any Miss Starr. And I'm not going back there. They promised me that if I cooperated, I'd be let go. I cooperated, they went back on their word. I'm not going back to them. What they want to do is wrong. You just can't lock someone up in a prison when they didn't do anything to deserve it. Says so in the Constitution. Even I know that.” With that, the girl turned and began flying away.

“No,” Tony muttered inside his mask. “Can't have that. No running away.” He swiftly gained altitude to get the right downward angle on the girl and hit her with a double repulsor blast. The impact knocked the girl back into the street. Without pausing, he said, “Simon, Carol, you're up.” He called up the file on Karen Starr and reviewed the quick list of known powers. Super-strength, dense musculature, some sort of force field, and she could fly. Estimated Beta Metahuman, upgraded to Alpha recently after tossing Leonard Samson around like a rag-doll. This was all right; both he and Ms. Marvel were both Alphas, and Wonder Man was an Omega, and three-to-one odds were pretty much unbeatable in such a situation.

At Iron Man's command, both Ms. Marvel and Wonder Man had leaped forward toward their target. Marvel had launched herself into the air and came down almost on top of the escaped prisoner, who was standing back up after her second face-first visit to the pavement. The female Avenger used the momentum of her leap to increase the force of her punch as she lashed out, connecting with the left side if the target's jaw. The girl's head was rocked to the side, but the blow, which Tony knew from experience should have knocked Karen Starr back to the ground, didn't so much as pause the girl's efforts to get back to her feet. 

Starr regained her feel, glared at Marvel, and growled out a sarcastic, “Ouch, that hurt.” Ms. Marvel threw another punch, but the girl caught Carol's fist in one hand and held it there, effortlessly. Ms. Marvel tried to jerk her arm away, but it didn't so much as move. “Ms. Marvel. I thought you were awesome back when you were Binary. Gotta wonder though.” The girl looked quickly to Iron Man and then back to Marvel. “You two still hopping into the sack with each other? Do you go to his AA meetings, or does he go to yours.” Ms. Marvel started to respond but abruptly cried out in pain. She dropped to her knees, her free hand furiously scrambling to gain some purchase on the Starr girl's hand, the one holding her own fist. “I didn't want to fight an--AWWK!”

Ms. Marvel pulled her hand away and cradled it as Wonder Man grabbed their target in a wrestling hold. Simon had the girl's arms trapped in some armlock and had lifted her right off the ground. Wonder Man pulled herself away from the obviously injured Ms. Marvel. Black Widow ran up and helped Carol get out of the line of fire.

“Okay, Miss – stand down. You're just making it worse... for... yourself...” Simon said through increasingly gritted teeth.

Iron Man lifted both hands toward the girl as, in amazement, she brought her arms forward and down, despite the hold that Wonder Man had her in. That the girl was easily overpowering him, meant – “Simon, what's going on? “

“I... can't... hold her, Tony... she's too...” The girl broke free and whirled on Wonder Man. She threw a messy jab at Simon's head, and Simon caught her wrist, barely. She jabbed with her other hand, and again Wonder Man caught it. She jerked away, and Simon barely held on. As it was, she had pulled Wonder Man completely off his feet and was tossing him around like he was made of paper. It was obvious that all he could do to hold on to her arms. Iron Man set his visual systems to maximum resolution and slaved his repulsors to his targeting computer. The second he had a clear shot he fired. The girl, still in the middle of spinning and bucking, trying to get Simon to let go of her, was struck in the side and thrown bodily through the glass frontage of the Victoria's Secret shop. Wonder Man, knocked off the girl by the force of the blast, scrambled to his feet.

“Carol?” Iron Man asked, keeping his eyes on the shop where their target had landed.

“She broke my fucking hand just by squeezing it, Tony. She's stronger than I am.”

“Yeah, the kid's stronger than me, too.” Simon said. That shook them all to their bones. Simon was generally recognized to be one of the strongest people in the world. Maybe not Hulk or Thor strong, but definitely in the Top 10. Maybe even the Top 5.

Iron Man started to say something, but the fact that they had begun to draw a crowd of looky-loos had to be addressed. He turned his external speakers up to max and said, “Folks, please stand back. It’s for your own safety. We're apprehending a dangerous fugitive. Please keep well back.” He could see dozens of cell phones being brandished toward the Avengers and their target. By midnight, he knew that video coverage of this fight will have gone viral.

The Starr girl climbed through the store window and stood there, glaring at them while she brushed glass from her clothes. “Damn it, I didn't want to fight anyone. I just wanted to be let alone so I could figure out a way home. So just let me go and you'll be rid of me soon enough.”

“We can't do that.” Wonder Man said. It was obvious that he was trying to be conciliatory. He stepped forward with his hands clear and raised. “So how about we go back to SHIELD, and we can all talk about this, and if you really need help, we'll see about getting you the help you need.”

“Yeah, SHIELD told me about the help they want to give me. Life in a prison looney ward because they think I'm crazy. No thanks.” The girl leaped into the air again, and this time everyone had to scramble to react in time. Simon managed to snag the girl's ankle and he swung her as hard as he could into the ground. She left a crater some five feet across on impact.

Iron Man and Wonder Man stood over her. “Karen Starr, also known as Power Girl, under authority granted to me by the Avengers Initiative, and in compliance with Federal enforcement provisions of the Superhuman Registration Act, we are placing you under arrest. You will immediately stand down, cease any resistance, and surrender. Do you understand?”

Iron Man hoped she was going to comply. Later, he would admit to himself that the girl's physique had distracted him. It was a weakness he knew he possessed, but he never liked to admit it, and sometimes it interfered. He was just a sucker for a beautiful woman, and this girl was gorgeous. His natural tendency to womanize sometimes – and this was painful for him to acknowledge – interfered with his professionalism. He stared at her as she regained her feet once more, thinking she was likely going to surrender. When he later remembered this moment, he had to admit he had been staring at her tits for a moment; the fact that he'd been staring at a kid would later just make him feel even more guilty for being distracted. But he had been so busy staring at her tits that he hadn't noticed when, while she was on her hands and knees, the Starr girl's fists had clenched, leaving finger-sized gouges in the pavement of 34th Street. It meant that he didn't notice when the girl started growling.

When the girl stood up for the third time, and started to move away from them, Wonder Man was right there to punch her across the face, but this time the punch didn't land. This time, the girl grabbed Simon's arm, moving faster than they ever suspected she could move. The girl spun, then threw Simon into the storefront she had just climbed out of. Wonder Man impacted the shop's back wall and went through it as if he was diving into water and not crashing through brick and mortar. A continual crashing sound let Iron Man know that he'd gone through at least one more wall beyond the first.

The Starr girl's face was a mixture of anger and regret, almost as if she was just as surprised and shocked as her actions as they were. “You going to leave me alone now, or are –”

Iron Man hit her with both repulsors, set to full blast. His target was slammed backward into an empty pick-up truck. The impact caved in the trunk's front end and shattered its windshield. Before she could really react, Iron Man jetted forward and blasted at her again, hoping to get the target tangled in the truck's wreckage and give Wonder Man a chance to return to the battlefield and get back into the game. At first it seemed to be working, but when his repulsors stopped firing to allow for the 1.34-second-long recharge time, Starr had recovered.

The girl seemed to shrug the truck's wreckage off her, then punched her way what was left of the vehicle's radiator grille to grab the engine block itself. She lifted the truck with one hand. Iron Man again struck Starr with his repulsors, but this time the girl didn't flinch. He might as well have shot her with a Nerf dart gun for all the effect it had.

“You know, I tried to be nice. I really, really tried to be nice. But you couldn't! Just! Leave! Me! Alone!” More quickly than Stark thought possible, the Starr girl swung the truck overhand at him as if it were a club. She punctuated each word she said with a swing of the truck. The first strike knocked him into the frontage of the Gap store, across the street from the Victoria's Secret. The marble frontispiece cracked and disintegrated from the power of the impact. As Iron Man rebounded from the support column, the girl was on him again. This time the strike was from overhead, and he was knocked into the street. And then again, before he could react, he was hit a third time. Then suddenly he was lying prone and the girl was standing over him, slamming the truck into him again and again as if the street were a wooden plank, the truck a hammer, and he himself a nail. The overwhelming force of the impacts eventually overloaded his armor's ability to cushion him, and Tony Stark blacked out.

**XxxxxxX**

Broken hand or no, Ms. Marvel wasn't going to let some teenaged girl smack down her teammates with impunity. Their admittedly scant briefing about this girl mentioned superhuman strength, but it absolutely didn't say she was this strong. She was beginning to think that they'd lost this fight before going into it. But it didn't matter. The target was beating down Iron Man, likely to kill him, and she couldn't allow that. If this went on too much longer, Stark could die. Ms. Marvel could already see his armor being permanently bent and deformed in spots.

 

Ignoring the pain in her hand, Carol Danvers leapt toward the target, crying out, “Hey! Get off him!” She shoulder-tackled the girl, and it was like hitting a pillar of stone. Nevertheless, it caused the girl to drop the truck she'd been using as a bludgeon. The two women rolled onto the street several times before stopping with Ms. Marvel on top, almost straddling Karen Starr. The Avenger pressed down on the younger girl's neck with her arm, careful to not put pressure on her broken hand, while using the other hand to land rabbit punches on Starr's face.

Starr gritted her teeth between punches, and when Carol hauled back to hit the girl again, Starr said only one word.

_**“BURN!”** _

The girl's eyes flared red and Ms. Marvel felt like she'd been dropped into a sauna. The air around her head heated up causing her to sweat for a moment. There was an almost physical impact from the heat beams, and Ms. Marvel rocked backward. Marvel's ability to absorb energy came into play, filled, was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of energy being poured into Marvel's body, then gave way. Marvel's skin began to redden and blister. And then Ms. Marvel was on fire. Carol Danvers felt like she'd been locked in a microwave, getting the worst possible sunburn imaginable. She smelled her own hair charring, and her costume started to smolder. But she couldn't see anything. Her entire world had gone white, and then gone black. She fell face-forward in pain, screaming.

The entire fight, from start to finish, took less than five minutes.

**XxxxxxX**

When Ms. Marvel fell, to Natasha Romanova it seemed that the Harris girl lost all her steam. Their 'target' seemed to collapse, falling to her knees and sucking in deep, almost sobbing breaths. It was almost as if she was shedding adrenaline with every breath.

Black Widow kept the target covered with her widow's sting. It was just a glorified taser, so she was sure that the weapon would be utterly useless, but it somehow made the former intelligence agent feel better about the fact that the girl was ignoring her. “Karen Starr,” she said, trying to get the girl's attention. “Power Girl.”

The target looked up at her as if seeing Black Widow for the first time. The younger girl shook her head. “Do you really want to get into it with me? After –” a wave of the hand, taking in the street-turned-battlefield. “– after this?”

“Not really. But I can't let you hurt anyone else.”

“Don't worry, not my intention. I never – I never wanted to fight anyone. I just wanted to find a way home. You guys started this. If you had just left me alone like I asked...” The girl stood and walked to where Iron Man was lying, partially covered by the destroyed pick-up truck. With a casual flick of her hand, the truck went skittering across the street.

The target bent down toward Iron Man, and Black Widow fired her sting. “Stop!”

As expected, the two needle-like projectiles fired by her weapon bounced ineffectively away after striking the girl's body. The girl didn't even notice, or if she noticed didn't react. Instead, she picked Iron Man up by his left shoulder. The way the man's arm hung loose, it was clear that the shoulder was dislocated, and the arm itself broken. The girl hooked a pair of fingers under the face-plate's seam, and with an almost casual movement, the entire front of Tony Stark's helmet peeled away from his head like the lid on a can of sardines. The girl then repeated the action downward, peeling the chest-plate away from Start rather than merely disconnecting it. Even Black Widow could tell that the metal suit was ruined.

“What are you doing?” she asked the girl?

“Don't worry. This way it'll be easier for the paramedics to get him help when I leave. You may not have noticed, but they're right over there. I think they're waiting until the threat is removed to come closer. I guess that would be me. The threat, I mean.” The girl lay Tony down on the pavement more gently than the Widow would have expected and patted Stark on the cheek. “Tony... Tony... wake up Mr. Stark.”

Stark's eyes fluttered open and he immediately grimaced in obvious pain. “Sorry about your arms, Mr. Stark, but I didn't start this fight. You did. I just finished it.”

The girl turned back to the Widow and it occurred to the last Avenger standing to be grateful for being ignored. Natasha looked over at Ms. Marvel with the eyes of someone trained in battlefield medicine. The front half of Ms. Marvel's hair was gone, burned down to the scalp. Her face, arms, and shoulders were covered in blisters and blackened where her costume had been burned into her skin. Very casually, trying to present no threat to the girl, she moved over and felt for a pulse. It was there. Weak, but it was present.

The Starr girl took another deep breath and took a step toward the Widow, who scrambled back as quickly as possible. Again, she brought up her widow's sting to cover the ‘target,’ for all the good it would do her. Starr knelt next to Marvel and seemed to study her for a moment. Then she looked toward Romanova. “I didn't mean to do any of this, you know. I just wanted to be left alone.” The girl sighed in what seemed to be honest regret.

“That does not matter now. What happened, happened.” Natasha Romanova swallowed deeply before continuing. “We both know I cannot fight you, and I cannot stop you if you flee, but you should know. The rest of the Avengers will be here shortly. Surrender. Let me take you in. It will be better for you if. –” The girl started shaking her head, so the Widow stopped talking. There was no point. This girl was determined to be left alone.

The Widow signed. “Okay. Your name is Karen? Can I call you Karen?” She lowered her arms, trying to appear harmless. “Karen?”

“Xander. My name is Xander.”

 _Right... the girl is delusional._ “Okay, Xander, I don't want to see anyone else hurt, but there is going to be a response to all of this. You do know this, correct? We cannot just let you go.”

Harris stood and took a deep breath. “I just want to go home. I'm sorry for all this, but I am going to go home. I didn't ask to be here, and I didn't ask to be in this body, and I didn't ask for superpowers. It all just happened. But I'm not going to be punished for existing. That's wrong. And I'm not going to let anyone stop me from getting home.” She looked around at the crowd that had gathered, and the policemen who were keeping the bystanders back. “I was supposed to be taking some kids trick-or-treating, that's all. I want to be back home, eating Halloween candy and making jokes about other people's costumes. I didn't want any of this.” She turned back to the Widow. “Tell them that.”

The Widow nodded. “All right. I will tell them.”

The girl started to turn away, then turned back suddenly. Natasha brought her stings up in a guard position, but the girl didn't attack. She just asked a question. “Before I go, I have to ask you a question. Do you know where I can find Doctor Strange?”

**XxxxxxX**

The one thing that Natasha Romanova never expected to come as a result of this fight was an interrogation from her own team.

“No, Janet, I emphatically did not 'just let her go.' How was I supposed to stop her? Can you tell me that? She had just put down Iron Man and Ms. Marvel and threw Wonder Man so hard that he crashed through three separate buildings before coming to a stop. What was I supposed to do, break some of my bones on her?” The rest of the team, except that lunatic Sentry, who was not present for some reason, and Spider-Man, who was apparently sympathetic, was glaring at Black Widow as if she, and not the Starr girl, had been the one to put Tony Stark and Carol Danvers in the hospital.

“Well –” an exasperated pause. “You should have –” Another exasperated pause. “Why didn't you –?” A huffy sigh, and then the Wasp gave in. “All right. You couldn't have stopped her. Didn't SHIELD warn you she was powerful?”

“I talked to that Wonderstone guy during the clean-up,” Spider-Man chimed in. “Apparently, until she decided to take a walk, Karen Starr was cooperative and pleasant and friendly and never gave SHIELD the first clue that she was capable of snapping an adamantium cable in two with her bare hands.” He tossed the cable in question onto the table. “Any of you guys know anyone this side of Sentry or the Hulk who can do that? Anyone?”

No one answered, because no one had to. The entire room falls silent as they ponder the implications.

Finally, the Wasp stood and clapped her hands together, once. It got everyone's attention. “Okay, here's what we have. According to SHIELD, the air traffic radar net has tracked a fast moving, dense body moving through US airspace east-to-west at just under Mach 2. We're assuming this is Starr, because the object's profile matches the profile when she first appeared in the sky over Alaska. Right now, she's over Ohio.” A map of the United States appeared on the briefing monitor, with a red flashing dot indicating their presumed target and her estimated position. “The FAA has ordered her likely flight path cleared of all non-military traffic so she won't bump into any jetliners filled with convenient potential hostages. We don't want this to get worse than it already is.”

She hit a button on the remote, and the map became footage of the girl's session with Leonard Samson, talking about her home life. “Based on what the girl told Black Widow, she wants to go home. Thing is, her home is in Midvale, Ohio – which she passed about thirty miles back with no signs of stopping. We're guessing she's heading for California because of the entire _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ thing. The show took place in southern California, that's where the fictional character she's adopted as her identity is from, so we think that's where she'll roost.”

“What is a _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_?” The question came from Ares.

“Right. For those of you who don't know, Karen Starr is a schizophrenic who believes that she is a character from the TV show _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ , which ran for two seasons from 1998 to 2000 before being canceled. It was about a California valley girl who fought vampires along with her friends. One of those friends was –” the Wasp hit the remote again, and the picture changed. “– Alexander Lavelle Harris, played by actor and sometime stand-up comedian Ryan Reynolds.”

From where he sat at the end of the table, Wonder Man spoke up. “A friend of mine did some stunt work for that show. He said it was lots of martial arts and weapons work. You think she's going to California to get back to the show, somehow? How?”

“She was asking about Doctor Strange. She demanded I tell her how to get to him. I refused. I expected her to torture it out of me, but she did nothing. Just flew away.” Black Widow shrugged. “Perhaps we should alert Stephen that the girl is looking for him.”

“According to Wong, he's 'unavailable', which could mean anything. But Wong didn't expect him back any time soon.” Wasp shrugged, then looked at her watch. “Anyway, I wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't going to try and find Sunnydale, the town the show took place in. The thing is, Sunnydale isn't there. SHIELD checked. There is a 'Sunnyvale' in California, but it’s up near San Jose. According to the show's internal lore, Sunnydale is closer to Los Angeles. Sunnydale was a stand-in for Santa Barbara, but not quite. SHIELD is going to be using satellite imaging to keep track of her location once she hits California. If she doesn't go to where this Sunnydale place was supposed to be, especially if she lands inside a large city, she'll meld into the population and will be gone.”

“We're chasing her?” Spider-Man asked.

“That's the assignment.”

Black Widow shifted in her seat. “Will Sentry be coming? I haven't seen him in a couple of days.” Almost under her breath, she added, “Thank Christ.”

“I've sent out a coded alert. Hopefully he'll join us in California.” Like Black Widow, the Wasp wasn't sure whether she should be happy or frightened by having Sentry along on this or any other mission. “Okay, wheels up in ten. Get ready and we'll meet in the hangar. Hank, please get the quinjet spun up. We'll leave as soon as everyone's assembled.” Yellowjacket nodded at his instructions and left immediately for the hangar. The rest of the team rose and moved out.

Spider-Man hung back, and was the last person in the room aside from the Wasp. He had a question for the team's deputy leader. “Janet, tell me something. From everything we can tell, this girl's just a scared kid who got in over her head. Why are we treating her like she's Ultron?”

Her answer was dry and filled with sarcasm. “Politics, Spider-Man. Politics and public relations. She embarrassed SHIELD by escaping from their custody, and thus is seen by certain people in the government to be following in Captain America's footsteps.

“Yeah?” The web-slinger held the door for her as they exited the room. “So?”

The Wasp just sighed. “So. Now they expect us to help make an example out of her.”

**XxxxxxX**

High above the Midwest, in the cold, stark air of the upper atmosphere, Xander Harris was weeping. The constant flow of tears was boiling away into the air from the friction of his passage. His nose ran, but the since that liquid was denser than the tears, it merely dried on his face. Not that Xander noticed. He wasn't noticing anything, really, other than the approaching Pacific Ocean. He certainly wasn't noticing the temperature, or the brightness of the moonlight, or the fact that he was flying fourteen miles high at nearly twice the speed of sound.

For the moment, he'd just let go and allowed the stress to take control. Everything had come to a head, and the pressure and the stress he's been under since waking up was finally bubbling to the surface. Oh sure, it had been fun thinking of how cool it would be since he was a superhero now. But then he'd got into a fight with real superheroes, and those real superheroes wanted to throw him in prison for life just because he existed.

The game was no longer fun.

The hard part was, he really couldn't figure out which part was worse. That he was apparently trapped in a different dimension? Yeah, that was bad. Hugely bad. That he'd been in a coma for months? That was also bad. That he'd been apparently thrown ten years into the future? That was horrific. His friends probably thought a vampire had got to him a long time ago. Ten years. That was plenty long for someone to be declared dead. He didn't want to be declared dead. He liked being alive. He liked his friends. He wanted to be with his friends. He wanted to be with Buffy and Willow and Miss Calendar and even Giles. Hell, he would be willing to put up with Angel if it meant getting back to his friends. Ten years. Were they even alive anymore? What would they do if he wasn't around? Who would cheer Buffy up if he wasn't around? Who'd prod Giles into thinking outside of the Box? Who'd convince Willow that she wasn't worthless, and that someone cared about her? Who?

But even the ten-year gap couldn't hold a candle to the truly, truly maddeningly terrifying truth of the body he was in. At first, it had been easy to ignore the fact that the body he was stuck in had different parts than what he was used to. It had been weird, but no big deal, and sort of cool in a sexy way. At first. Just a little.

Okay, let's be honest – he was a teenage boy, and getting up close and personal with the lady parts had sort of been a lifelong goal, and hey, there they were! And no one could really object to his playing with them, since they were his, right? At least if he wasn't rude about it.

But after a while, the reality of the situation began to weigh on him. The longer he was stuck in this body, the less it felt like he was stuck in this body and the more it felt like just a body. It was like, his actual maleness was slowly wearing away as he got used to the idea of inhabiting a female body. It was, slowly but almost inexorably, feeling like he wasn't going to be staying Xander Harris, but rather was turning into a mix between Xander and Karen and Kara. He'd seen a mirror. It would have been easier if he'd been nothing more than a female version of himself. He believed this to be true. Had he been just himself, plus girlness, he could have handled it better. But no. He wasn’t a female version of himself. No, he was blonde, and beautiful, and had fantastic cheekbones, and long hair, and eyes the same color as the sky on a perfect spring day. And his boobs were way too big and he was muscled funny and it threw him off balance and what the hell was he supposed to do?

_HE WASN'T A GIRL. HE DIDN'T WANT TO BE A GIRL._

There wasn't anything wrong with being a girl, of course. He liked girls. Boy, did he like girls. He loved girls. Did that make him gay now? If he was stuck inside a girl's body – if he was going to be a girl from now on – if he couldn't find a way to change back – if he was a girl and still liked girls, was he gay now?

Would he slowly start liking guys?

No. He still liked girls. He'd always like girls.

Well, he assumed he liked girls.

No, he definitely still liked girls.

_WHY DID HE HAVE TO BE A GIRL?_

The tears started again. He couldn't help it. He was crying, and crying like a little – no, he wasn't going to think that. That way lead to madness.

A sudden thought, coming out of left field, scampered across Xander's consciousness and it almost caused him to drop out of the sky. It scared him so bad he started shaking, and cranked the stress up so high that he started to dry heave, sending him into free fall. He eventually did vomit, just in time to catch himself and resume his course west.

_Did Kryptonian women menstruate?_

And if so, what in the name of all that was holy was he supposed to do about it? _Fuck that, how soon would he have to deal with it?_ He was a guy, what did he know about getting a period? And he couldn't just ask someone. How do you broach that subject? A doctor? Yeah? A doctor who wouldn't look at him funny when he came in, admitted he was a seventeen-year-old boy stuck in a girl's body, and never went through a period before? What was he going to do?

His thoughts turned back toward home. He couldn't remember how far it was from the east coast to the west, but he knew he was flying faster than sound – the boom was a while ago – and could see the Pacific Ocean ahead using his telescopic vision.

There had to be someone in this world who could get him home. He couldn't think of any Marvel superheroes who could move from one dimension to another except Doctor Strange and that Watcher guy on the moon, and the Watcher's shtick was never interfering. He knew he could get to the moon, no problem. But how to convince Mr. No-Interference to help?

So no luck there.

And then the sobbing started again.

He hoped he hadn't permanently crippled Iron Man and Ms. Marvel. He hoped not. It was never his intention to hurt anyone.

But everyone knew which road was paved with one's good intentions.

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hearty thank you goes out to Erin, Laquanda, and Linda from the casual menswear department at Macy's Department Store, located on Harold's Square in Manhattan. They were kind enough to have a very strange (for them) conversation with me, and described for me just where their department was in the building, and just what could be seen outside their window, and how high up they were should someone jump through that window.


	7. But Today... Today is a Very Different Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“Quit. Don't quit. Noodles. Don't noodles. You are too concerned with what was, and what will be.” – **Master Oogway** (Randal Duk Kim), Kung Fu Panda_

**XxxxxxX**

Spider-Man shifted in his seat, staring at the file he held on his lap. It was a copy of Karen Starr's file, helpfully provided by SHIELD. Notes on everything SHIELD had done with the girl while she was unconscious, everything the girl had said and done after she awoke. Notes on her escape. After-action reports from her fight with Iron Man and his team.

Unlike commercial jetliners, there wasn't a convenient drop-down tray-table on the back of the seat in front of him. He made a mental note to talk to Stark about including them in the next quinjet upgrade the team received. Spider-Man flipped through several pages, all the while balancing the thing on his knees. Luckily, balance hadn't been a problem for him since high school. He rubbed the back of his head for a moment, thinking. It wasn't as satisfactory feeling as it would have been without the mask, but one had to make allowances. It was a super-hero thing, he was sure.

Spider-Man looked up from the file, deep in contemplation. _Something,_ he thought to himself, _was very wrong here._ He reopened the file to double-check something, then went back to thinking. _Something is very wrong, but it’s just not coming to me yet._ Despite his reputation as a jokester who couldn't take anything seriously, the truth was that Peter Parker was a highly-educated genius. While not as smart in general as Tony Stark, the truth was that in some areas, Parker left Stark in the dust, intelligence-wise. And knowing about people, how people thought, and figuring out motivations and goals was one such area. And to Spider-Man and his people skills, something about this entire situation stank like a fish market in ninety-degree heat.

He turned to Wonder Man, who was dozing in the seat across the aisle from him. “Got a question for you, Simon.”

“Sure, what do you need?” Wonder Man opened one eye. He hadn't been asleep of course; he no longer needed to sleep at all. But when he wanted to be alone he always pretended. His teammates had figured out early that this was a ruse, but they let him get away with it out of respect for the man.

“This girl – she pulled apart a set of shackles made of secondary adamantium, while wearing a collar specifically designed to neutralize super-powers. Right?” Spider-Man checked something else in the file before continuing. “The neutralizer collar was itself made of secondary adamantium. And she pulled these things apart like she was stretching out piece of taffy.”

“Yeah,” Wonder Man nodded. “So?”

“So –” Spider-Man hesitated for a moment. He had noticed that he somehow had gained the attention of the entire cabin, outside of Hank Pym, who was flying. “So, I'm thinking. The neutralizer collar is standardized, and works by detecting and neutralizing anomalies in the human genome. But it’s got an upper level of effectiveness, right? I mean, past a certain point it just doesn't have that much effect anymore.”

“Okay. Sure. It’s got an upper limit.” Wonder Man sat up straighter in his chair. He had a moment of clarity where he thought he saw where Spider-Man was going, but wanted to see it play out. “So, what's the point?”

“I'm thinking there's two explanations to her being able to just ignore the thing.” Spider-Man held up two of the fingers on his left hand, then tapped one with his right index finger. “One, she's not human, or at least not entirely human. That would mean that the neutralizer collar never had a chance to affect her, and she was playing along the entire time.”

“What do you mean, not human?” Wonder Man asked.

Spider-Man shrugged. “Maybe she's an alien, or –”

“What, like she's a Kree infiltrator or something?” Black Widow asked from the sidelines.

Simon chuckled at that, but rubbed his chin anyway. “If we're thinking non-humans, she could be an Eternal. Super-strong, impossible to hurt, flies, energy blasts, manipulation of matter enabling them to tear through adamantium. It fits.”

“So what's your second thought.” Wasp interjected, captivated by the conversation. It was a lot better than the novel she was reading. She couldn't remember who recommended _Plum Lovin'_ to her, but when she found out, that person was going to pay and pay dearly.

“Well, my second thought's the really, really scary one. Maybe she is human, and maybe the collar was affecting her powers, but that she's so phenomenally powerful that even with an artificially reduced power level, she was still powerful enough to tear through secondary adamantium. I mean, maybe the collar never had a hope in Hades of really affecting her because her true power level is somewhere between the Hulk and Galactus, and she was just playing along the entire time.” That though hit everyone in the quinjet like a ton of bricks. For a couple of minutes, no one said a thing.

“Hank,” Wasp finally said, coming out of the shock of Spider-Man's idea. “Do me a favor and confirm for me that Sentry is meeting us in LA, okay? If Starr's that powerful, we're going to need him along to deal with her.

They all turned back toward Spider-Man. “What?” the web-slinger asked. Everyone was looking at him as if he has a booger hanging out of his nose. “What's wrong?”

Black Widow smiled at him. “They're just not used to you being so insightful, Peter. They're used to the immature prankster.”

Behind his mask, Spider-Man began to sputter. “I don't know why no one ever thinks I have a brain in my head. I'll have you know that I have Master's Degrees in both organic chemistry and physics, and I minored in Engineering. Give me another six months and I'll have my first PhD; my second shouldn't be too far behind the first.”

“Really?” Wonder Man was one of the few people who already knew how brilliant Spider-Man really was, but at this point the joke was too good to pass up. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. “I, for one, never expected you to be so acclaimed in the academic world.”

“Oh, shut up!” Spider-Man gave Wonder Man a friendly tug to the arm.

Yellowjacket brought the discussion back to the topic. “Okay, so you said maybe an Eternal? What are you basing it on?”

Wonder Man shrugged. “It was just an idea, but when you think about it, it fits. I've read the files of the older Avengers rosters. I mean, old members are always popping up, so I figured I'd get to know who might be showing up at our door. Remember Sersi? Amazingly hot indestructible amazon with super-strength and laser eyes who could fly. Just like this girl. So yeah, I'm thinking Eternal.”

“But we know all the Eternals, right?” Spider-Man turned to the Wasp. “We do know all the Eternals, right Janet?”

The Wasp gestured in the negative. “Not necessarily. How many of them do we know who live on Titan? I mean, other than Thanos and Starfox? Could be thousands of them. But they are rare, when compared to the larger human population, and they generally don’t fall out of the sky at random. I mean, it’s an idea, but it’s not as likely as you might think.”

From the back came Ares deep, resounding voice. Even when he was talking quietly, the war-god always sounded like he was speaking through a megaphone. Of course, so did Thor and Hercules. It seemed to be a common attribute of mythological gods. “Have you considered that she might just be one of those mutant creatures you mortals are always whining about?”

Spider-Man half-turned toward Ares, who was behind him. “Well, the truth is we don't really know, now do we? I mean, she might be a mutant who was just too powerful to be neutralized. Of course, if she's a mutant, why haven't we heard from the people at the Xavier's school? It’s like their contractually obligated to get involved when the bad guy is a honking powerful mutant, right, what with the entire 'she's a mutant so she's out responsibility you don't understand the angst of mutant-kind so please kindly step back out of the way while we attend to this mess' vibe they've got going.”

“I'd like to bring up something that no one here or at SHIELD seems to have considered.” Black Widow sat forward in her seat. “What if she's telling the truth? Anyone thought of that?”

“What do you mean?” The Wasp asked.

The Widow sighed. “What if this person really is Xander Harris from another dimension where _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ isn't a television show, but is real life. What if she really is a teenaged boy who was stuck in the body of a super-powered teenage girl because of some misfiring magic spell. What if she really is just trying to get home. If all of that is true – and I know it’s a lot of assumptions – by continuing to hound this girl rather than help her get home, we're only doing more damage.”

Wonder Man actually laughed at this. “Natasha, do you hear yourself? That's got to be one of the most ridiculous things I've –”

Black Widow interrupted him, raising her voice to ride over his interjection. “Spendthrift son of a multi-millionaire runs out of money to cover his gambling debts, and in his desperation, turns to a villainous agency known for its mad scientist tendencies.” Realizing where the Widow was going, Wonder Man shut up and suddenly looked a bit ashamed of himself. But the Widow went on: “Said agency exposes this wastrel millionaire's son to assumedly lethal levels of a previously known type of radiation. Rather than kill the wastrel, his body was slowly transformed into a packet of cohesive energy, granting him great strength, endless endurance, and a resistance to harm possessed by almost no other being on the planet. After a very short period of being a villain, the wastrel millionaire's son decides to fight for the good of humanity as a superhero named 'Wonder Man.' What part of that story is not ridiculous?”

When she was finished, she merely raised her eyebrow at him. Everyone was quiet, watching the two of them.

“Okay, point taken,” Wonder Man said finally. “So are you saying you believe all this –” he waved his hand around, looking for the right term. “– stuff about being from television show dimension?”

“No, actually, I don't. But I do think it needed to be brought up. After all, as I just pointed out, we've encountered stranger things that were at least as improbable.” From off to the side, the Widow thought she heard Spider-Man mutter something about clones and old girlfriends, but she could have been mistaken. “In any case, whether we believe it, Ms. Starr does, so her actions will be directed by the assumption that everything she said about her background is true.”

The Wasp seemed to want to say something in response to that, but she stopped and tapped one side of the headset she was wearing. After a few moments, she spoke into her microphone. “Roger, SHIELD control. Thank you.” She pushed the headset back so that it was hanging from her neck, frizzed out her hair with her fingers, and said, “Okay, NORAD's lost her. She hit southern California and her signal was lost in the noise. They think they've narrowed it down to only Los Angeles, Ventura, and Santa Barbara counties.”

“Only!” Wonder Man groaned, tossing his hands up. “Great. Yeah, that's only about eighty thousand square miles or so to search.”

“At least it’s not the entire state, right? And it could be worse, we could be searching Alaska.” Spider-Man couldn't help but laugh a bit at Simon's discomfiture. “Oh hey –” the wall-crawler looked around at his teammates. “I know Simon lives in southern California full-time, and I know a lot of you guys have been out here before, but this is my first time on the west coast. When we get this wrapped up, you think I could stick around a couple of days and see the sights? Maybe go on one of those tours of the stars’ homes? Or, I don’t know, Disneyland maybe?”

**XxxxxxX**

The sun hung in the sky like a golden ball. The sky was had just enough cloud in it to be called poetically beautiful, and was the perfect shade of blue to be called artistic. The weather wasn't too hot anymore though it had been earlier in the day; it was August in southern California, after all. The grass the perfect straw-colored yellow for wild grass in California, and had been cut short enough to be pleasant to sit on. The occasional bird-call and insect noise, combined with the ambient noise of the people Xander was watching, didn't distract from the vista before him. All things considered, it really was a beautiful day.

There was a lake where Xander Harris's home town was supposed to be. It was a beautiful lake. That had to be admitted right away. But still, it was a lake and not a town.

Not that he really expected anything else. Intellectually, he knew that Sunnydale didn't exist here. The people at SHIELD had told him this, and they really didn't have a reason to lie to him, so he had just sort of accepted it as gospel. No Sunnydale. His mind accepted it. He knew it was a fact. But it hadn't sunk in until he was here, overlooking the valley his hometown would have been filling had it existed in the Marvel Universe.

He'd finally hit the Pacific Ocean about midnight the night before. He figured out which way was south by putting the Pacific on his left, then turning around. That had led to an hour of flying, looking for the bright lights of cities, and hopping from cityscape to cityscape had eventually led him right to Los Angeles. He then just backtracked north, following the Pacific Coast Highway. The first clue that his quest to just go home was going to be more complicated than just going home was the sign. It should have said, 'Welcome to Sunnydale,' but instead said 'Lake Cachuma Reservoir State Park.'

He'd landed on one of the bluffs overlooking the lake and taken a good long look around. A really good long look, too, using the body's senses to their fullest. He'd even dove into the lake and spent a good half an hour prowling around the lake bottom just so he could say that the town hadn't been covered in all that water. It hadn't been, and there wasn't anything down there worth talking about. In fact, there wasn't any sign of the town at all. Sure, there were cabins in the area, and a small marina, and a small beach covered in signs that read, 'No Swimming,' but no town. No Sunnydale.

He'd known it wasn't going to be there. He'd known it. Going in, he'd known it. But he hadn't been emotionally prepared for it. Not really. It was one thing to know the facts, it was another to feel the impact of those facts.

The full weight of the isolation and the adrenaline and the fear and the stress and the knowledge that he was about as far away from home as he could possibly be, added to the stress of an involuntary sex-change and the inherent problems involves, plus the extra added stress of being a fugitive from justice who'd escaped imprisonment and absconded had fallen onto his shoulders. He settled down beneath the shade of a small grove of pine trees and cried. And then when he was done crying because of the stress, he cried some more because of the sense of loss. And when he was done crying because of the sense of loss, he cried some more because – well, he didn't know why because. He just cried some more.

He normally didn't cry like this. Crying wasn't a normal part of his stress reaction, and hadn't been since his dad had laid into him when he was eight for being a crybaby. Ever since then, he'd been the 'joke about the danger and run, but always keep a level head' type of person. The 'simmering anger just below the surface lacking an appropriate outlet' type of person. The 'finally snap and attack when pushed too far' type of person. He really wasn't the crying type, and this bothered him. The intellectual side of his brain was telling him that saying, 'I'm a teenaged girl now and I've got hormone problems' was sexist and stupid, but deep down he'd have to admit that this was his first thought.

Eventually, though, he reached a point where he was all cried out, and thus tired. The sun was getting lower on the horizon, and Xander felt emotionally exhausted. He sat under the trees on the bluff and watched the lights go on in the cabins around the lake. He watched the people out in the boats pull into the marina and tie up for the night. He watched the picnickers pack up and drive off. The day was ending, and he had no idea really what he was going to do. It was a good day to sit for a while and watch the world pass by.

Surprisingly, it worked. Xander felt, if not relaxed, at least less stressed. Soon enough, he started thinking. The last thing that anyone who knew Xander from Sunnydale would say about him was that he was introspective. In fact, they'd laugh at the idea of Xander sitting down for a good think sometime. But one of the things Xander who knew for a fact was that people tended to see what they wanted to see and nothing more. And not all that they'd see would be the truth.

This was an ironic thought, given his current situation.

Xander sat and he thought. Just slowly pondering the problems he was facing. Thinking about the little things. Things like, _Now that I know for sure that Sunnydale absolutely does not exist in this universe, what precisely am I going to do for food and shelter?_ That was followed by the realization that he hadn't really eaten anything in the last 24 hours and wasn't all that hungry. He also wasn't really noticing the temperature anymore, or the fact that after coming out of the lake he'd been sopping wet. So maybe food and shelter were optional now. And that lead to him thinking _Well wait. Even if don't need shelter for the shelter anymore, I'd still like a place to sit down and watch some TV or something. Everybody liked to have a place they could go to get away from the world and put all their stuff, after all, and he really did want to have some stuff. Everybody wanted some stuff. George Carlin said that, didn't he? The only thing a person really needed to be happy was a place to put their stuff. That implied that all people needed was a little stuff to put in that place, right?_ So, shelter was still a consideration.

That thought lead to _Right now, all I own is a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I don't even have a pair of socks._ Maybe he should do something about that, while he tried to figure out how to get a hold of Doctor Strange, or one of the other wizards to be found in Marvel. He thought a bit longer and realized that he really couldn't name any wizards in Marvel other than Doctor Strange and Strange's arch-enemy, Baron Mordo. And his girlfriend Clea. And Agatha Harkness. He was sure there were others, but who they were he had no clue. Sooner or later he'd have to go back to New York and find Doctor Strange.

In the mean-time, all he had was the clothes on his back.

Surprisingly, that lead back to the _I'm not a girl I don't want to be a girl thing._ It was a rutting nightmare. It was a plague. It was a nightmare about a plague. Here he was, living a life-long dream, and it came with a cost that he wasn't sure he wanted to pay. Since he was a kid he'd dreamed about being a superhero. It was a game that he'd played with Jesse and Willow when they were kids. Always had been, since the day Willow's mom dragged the three of them into a used bookstore – even at six years old, Willow had been a bookworm – and there Xander had found an entire rack of old comic books. Most of them were torn, or were water-stained, or were missing their covers, but they were only a nickel apiece and Xander had fallen in love in a heartbeat. He still remembered the first comic book he ever owned. It was an old, dog-eared copy of a _Green Lantern/Green Arrow_ comic that was older than he had been when he bought it.

_Green Arrow_.

It had been Green Arrow who taught Xander everything he ever knew about being a hero: you didn't give up, no matter how hard it got for you; you didn't hurt other people if you could help it, especially people who were weaker than you. You watched out for people who couldn't watch out for themselves. And you positively did not compromise on what was right and what was wrong. Xander had swallowed every drop of this code of heroism. During his years of torment as the class loser, he had tried to live up to this code regardless of the cost to himself in cuts and bruises. And he did this even before Buffy arrived.

_Buffy_.

Buffy was the real deal; she was an honest-to-Betsy superhero. And in the proximity of Buffy, he finally had begun to feel like a hero, if not a superhero. Xander had jumped at the chance to help her out in her battle against vampires and demons. Are you kidding? And over time, he discovered that she relied on him to be the Scooby who never, ever gave up. She told him that once: that he was the rock she relied on. Oh sure, he'd get scared – sometimes he'd get terrified – but he never let that stop him, and it was that courage that she relied on. Getting scared was normal. Giving up never occurred to him.

He was scared now. That was for sure. He was sure he'd come close to killing two superheroes. At the very least, he'd put them in the hospital with serious injuries. Ms. Marvel especially. What he'd done to her was gross and disgusting and horrible all at once. He'd never seen third degree burns, but that was how he imagined they looked like.

This brought on a whole new raft of fears. The Avengers were no doubt going to be looking to get back at him for their own. They knew he was from California, and would likely come here to hide. But California was a big place, and he was just one person. He hoped he could stay hidden. In the comics, they always found the villains eventually, but maybe if he kept his head down, he'd be able to pull it off. With his luck, though, it was only a matter of time before Thor or Captain America showed up to arrest him. Xander was certain that since he was technically an escaped fugitive, the last thing he wanted was to be arrested. Of course, the words 'no trial' and 'imprisoned for the rest of his life' not only scared him, they pissed him off.

It would be cool to meet Captain America, though. Hey, it was Captain America, right? Even the villains respected Captain America! The Red Skull hated the Captain, but he respected the man.

He figured that his future was going to follow one of four alternatives. First, he could find a way to get his old body back and then go home, not necessarily in that order. This would be ideal, and the one he was going to actively work for. Second, he could find a way to go home but be forced to keep the body. This was not what he wanted at all. He didn't want that at all. But he thought he could possibly deal with being a girl if he had to, as long as he had his friends around him to help him. At least he hoped so. His third option was finding a way to get his body back, but being forced to stay in the Marvel Universe. This, like the second option, was not what he wanted at all. He wanted to go home and be with his friends. But if he was going to be stuck in the Marvel Universe, he knew he'd be better off in his own body instead of this one. He wouldn't be a superhero anymore, but he could live with that if it meant he went back to normal.

The last possibility was being stuck in a girl's body, and stuck in the Marvel Universe. He knew that this option not only meant that he'd never be a guy again, but that he'd constantly be on the run from the law unless the law changed, or else he somehow convinced other people that he wasn't a threat. Plus the entire girl thing on top of it. How the hell was he supposed to be a girl? There wasn't anything wrong with being a girl, of course, but it was a job you weren't supposed to pick up in the middle if you were a guy. The only good thing about the last option was that he'd be stuck in the body of a Kryptonian, and any way you cut it, being a Kryptonian had its advantages.

Somewhere, on a non-intellectual level, he realized just how screwed up this situation really, truly was. Whatever psychotic, sadistic bastard of a Higher Power decided this was a good idea needed a good kick in the nuts. What kind of loving God gave a guy his oldest dream, being a superhero, but slammed you in the wrong body, on the wrong side of the law, without any place to stay or any of your friends. It was too high a price. He liked being a guy. He wanted to go home. It was just that simple. He was in the Marvel Universe, and how cool was that supposed to be? His dream had been fulfilled. Nightmareville.

It occurred to him that he was no closer to deciding what he was going to do than he was when he sat down.

Xander was still thinking when he finally noticed that the sun was down below the horizon and all the boats were in. A scattering of lights from the cabins, the park offices, and the traffic crossing the dam at the far end of the lake were the only lights. The moon was new, and when Xander looked at the sky it was like a that Van Gogh painting he'd seen in school once. He took a moment to truly open his eyes, and suddenly the sky was as bright as day, rippling with the colors of the various wavelengths that mortal man didn’t have the acuity to sense.

He took a moment to locate the planets. He had no real idea where in the sky they were supposed to be, so he just concentrated and swept his greatly-magnified gaze around the sky until he spotted them. It was supremely cool that he could do that. Of course, even with his enhanced senses, the planets were little more than smudges of color on a black background, but it was still awesome.

For a little while, at least, the beauty of the sky drove the problems out of his head. _They never show this part in the comics,_ he thought to himself. _There are a few perks to staying Power Girl. Can't deny that._ It was this thought that forced him to realize that was swiftly getting used to having, and using, superpowers. He hoped beyond hope that, when the time came to go home and get his own body back, that he could give them up without any second thoughts. Could he give up the ability to have a private planetarium show every night, if he wanted one? How about never getting hurt or feeling cold or hungry again? Could he give up being able to fly, now that he'd not only flown but crossed the continent in a little less than three hours?

_Oh well. Enough of this._ Xander sighed deeply as he spoke to himself. _Enough sitting around all mopey. If I'm going to do something about this, I should do something about it and not keep whining about it._ With that, Xander floated gently up into the air, taking one last long look toward the lake. Toward, he admitted to himself, the place where his hometown was supposed to be, but wasn't.

He'd spent the day in peace, at least. He wasn't quite sure when he'd get another one.

**XxxxxxX**

The Avengers had taken over a conference room in the Los Angeles federal building. It was only temporary. They'd been waiting for SHIELD to tell them when their target was making a move of some kind, but so far there had been nothing. And unfortunately, it was almost a guaranteed thing with superheroes, who wouldn't be what they were if they didn't secretly crave the action, that they hated to just wait around.

“Well, this might be the most fun I've had since my last root canal.” Hank Pym handed a can of Coca-Cola over to Spider-Man, who was already working on his second slice of pizza. The yellow-clad hero grabbed a slice with one hand while, showing a talent for ambidexterity, he popped open a can of soda with the other. Spider-Man just nodded in return. The webslinger opened his mouth to comment, but was cut off by the late arrival of the Wasp and Sentry. As Sentry settled into a seat at the far end of the table, Spider-Man cleared his throat, then quietly sand, “Hale, hale, the gang's all here...”

Wasp shot Peter a scathing look, but before she could say anything, the phone on the conference room table buzzed twice. Black Widow, the closest Avenger to the phone, reached out and tapped the “talk” button, putting it on common speaker. “Yes?”

“We got her.” It was Teague Marsh, the Senior Supervisory Agent of the Los Angeles SHIELD facility. “She popped up on a traffic control radar out at LAX. LAX called the Air Force to confirm they had a flight in the area, and the call was transferred to us. She's over Santa Barbara County, moving southwest. Subsonic. Wherever she's going, she's not in any hurry.”

“Thank you, Agent Marsh.” Wasp turned to her team and gestured, making the whirling 'everybody up' sign. “Let's saddle up, guys.” She looked over at Sentry. “Robert, if you don't mind?” Sentry looked up at Wasp and nodded. “I need you to intercept the target. We'll follow along and meet you there. Just keep us updated on her location.” Sentry looked pained, but nodded again. He left the conference room and headed right, toward the stairs to the roof. The rest of the team followed in his footsteps.

**XxxxxxX**

Xander was a mile in the air and headed south-east. While drifting over the lake, he'd come up with a plan of sorts. Step One was get to Los Angeles. Step Two was to figure out Step Two once he got to LA, and hope that Step Two included finding a place to stay and maybe a temp job until he figured out what he wanted to do, just so he had some money in his pocket and a roof over his head.

Money, he had realized, was going to be a real problem. _If the judge was right, and I'm nothing more than a TV character in this world, my social security number is --_ His conversation with himself was abruptly cut off when a glowing, man-shaped freight train slammed into him bodily at somewhere north of Mach 4.

**XxxxxxX**

Wasp listened to the quinjet's radio for a moment, then turned to report to her team. “Okay, Sentry is engaging. He estimates he'll have the Starr girl under control in less than a minute.” All around her, the other Avengers just nodded.

And then Spider-Man had to go ruin it. “So what's the plan if he doesn't have her under control in less than a minute, boss lady? This was a girl who tore through adamantium, after all.”

Janet van Dyne sighed. For a guy who joked around so much, Spider-Man could really be a bummer sometimes. “That's why we're following him in. Just in case he needs backup.”

Spider-Man nodded, as if agreeing. “Great. We're his backup. Perfect.” He muttered just low enough to keep anyone else from hearing.

**XxxxxxX**

Xander bounced at least six times before rolling to a stop. The first couple of bounces sent him nearly fifty feet into the air and covered a good quarter mile. The ones after that were shorter and shorter until she was merely rolling along the ground. He rolled for nearly five hundred yards. Luckily, it didn't hurt that much, though it was getting his clothing dirtied up like nobody's business. By the time he came to a stop, he'd bounced along the ground for nearly two miles.

He was careful as he stood back up. Xander dusted the dirt and plant matter from his clothes and hair as best he could, then looked up. Standing in the air above him, looking down at him with an expression of sneering contempt, was a man in a gold and black costume, sporting a blue cape. They held their respective positions for several seconds, neither moving or speaking a word. Finally, it was Xander who broke the silence. “You're new, aren't you? I mean, I have no idea who you're supposed to be. Are you an Avenger? Did someone decide to add a cheap Superman rip-off to the Avengers? I'm betting it was Rick Veitch, wasn't it?”

 

The man in gold just sneered. “Save the insults, girl. I'm here to bring you back to SHIELD. Give up now and I won't have to hurt you. You can't win, so you might as well not even try- _ ****_” From a standing start, Xander had leapt into the air. He slammed into the newcomer, leading with his right shoulder and striking the man in the abdomen from below. It was a move guaranteed to knock the air out of someone. With his opponent momentarily dazed, Xander grabbed the man by the right wrist and swung him into the ground. Keeping hold of the wrist, Xander again swung the man in gold, this time over Xander's head and from there into the ground again. And then again. Finally, in a twirl that was so fast it temporarily disrupted the local ground-level wind currents, Xander threw the man in the gold suit as far as he could.

The man's appearance had shaken Xander to the core. Sure, he suspected that the Avengers would eventually catch up to him, but he figured that he'd have at least a week before they found him, not merely hours. But there was no time to worry about it now. He had to get out of here.

_Well, at least that should take care of this guy. I hope he_ “GERK!”

The man in gold was back, flying into Xander at high speed. He grabbed Xander by the neck and lifted him off the ground with one hand as he flew. “That was a very stupid, stupid mistake, young lady.” Those words were soon followed by a golden flash as Xander's attacker brought his free hand around in a clenched fist and slammed it into Xander's face. Xander's vision blurred for a moment, and blood spurted from his nose. It was all accompanied by a crunching noise that told Xander that the nose in question was well and truly broken. The man hauled his free hand back for another go.

Xander decided, then and there, that he'd had enough. Just enough. Events lately had sucked beyond the telling of them, and Xander was tired of it. Being attacked twice in 24 hours, this time by some arrogant jackass that Xander had never seen or heard of before, brought a new feeling to the fore in Xander's mind. It wasn't shock, or stress, it was _anger_. Raw anger. _In the immortal words of Popeye, I've hads all I can stands, and I can't stands no more._ Still hanging from the man's other hand, Xander brought his own hand up and caught the man's fist. Xander held it in place for a moment, just because he could, then shoved the man's fist away. He brought his other hand up and started gouging at the man in gold's eyes. That got the intended reaction; Xander found himself dropped like a hot rock to the ground. The man in gold dropped to the ground as well.

The two stood and considered one another for a moment before Xander spoke. “You know what, buddy, you're right. Someone's made a big mistake tonight. But you're also wrong. It wasn't me.” In his head, Xander was trying to figure out a way to put this asshole down, but hard.

The man in gold moved in to punch at Xander, but he ducked aside. He tagged the man's face twice with quick jabs. He couldn’t put as much power as he wanted into the fast punches, but Xander had to smile when the gold-clad newcomer's nose started bleeding. The man brought his fist around again, and Xander ducked back, then shoved the man's arm around so hard that the newcomer was spun bodily around.

Then Xander kicked the guy in the nuts, trying to put as much push into the kick as he could manage. Xander felt a strange sense of gratification as the man in gold sank like a submarine with screen doors. He rolled his eyes at the man's groans. Xander turned and took four steps, poking gently at his nose, which still hurt like a bitch. Then he cursed. The rest of the Avengers had arrived.

“I just can't catch a break!” he said. Xander gingerly wiped blood from his upper lip as the heroes arrayed themselves in a rough horseshoe in front of him. He thought he recognized all of them, though he wondered who the guy was that looked like Spider-Man; Spider-Man wasn't an Avenger, as far as he could remember. When did Hank Pym get back into the Yellowjacket suit? And who was the joker with the guns and the mohawk?

“Okay.” It was almost a wheeze. His nose was beginning to interfere with his breathing. “I take it the gold guy was with you. If we're going to do this, let's do this. Who's next?”

The Avengers rushed him, obviously trying to bum-rush him. Xander ignored Wasp and Yellowjacket; he couldn't even feel their attacks. He ducked under Wonder Man's charge and brought up his arm just quick enough to barely miss clotheslining Spider-Man, who managed to leap out of the way at the last second. The webslinger sprayed a mass of gray-white goop into Xander's eyes, blinding him for just a moment. In response, Xander cranked his visual range up into the X-Ray, and suddenly he was fighting a group of skeletons. A quick burst of heat vision and his vision was clear.

The guy with the mohawk had yet to move. He seemed to be studying Xander.

Black Widow managed to grab Xander's wrist and twisted, bringing leverage into play. Xander flipped into the air over the Widow's shoulder, then intentionally stopped in mid-air. As gently as he could in the middle of a fight, Xander slapped the Russian martial artist on the back of her head; the blow was hard enough to send her sprawling into the dirt.

The guy with the mohawk still hadn't made a move.

Xander turned back to the other Avengers just in time to catch a punch from Sentry, who'd recovered from the nut-shot Xander had laid on him. For a moment, Xander's vision blurred, but he recovered fast enough to give Sentry a double pump in return. Again, he pitched the man in gold toward the horizon. The Wasp and Yellowjacket were now aiming at his eyes, so he swiped at them randomly. It was powerful enough to generate a breeze strong enough to knock them tumbling out of the air.

Wonder Man and Spider-Man each grabbed Xander by an arm and dragged him to ground level. Wonder Man pulled Xander's arm back in an arm lock, while Spider-Man kicked at Xander's legs. Having no better idea of how to respond, Xander picked each man up and slammed them into one another. This took care of Spider-Man, so Xander punched Wonder Man in the face twice, then tossed him in the same direction he'd tossed the man in Gold.

The man with the Mohawk finally moved. He brought his hands together and cracked his knuckles, then leapt at Xander. Xander moved out of the way of suck a clumsy attack, only to find that the man had grabbed hold of Xander's shirt in passing. Suddenly Xander found himself in the dirt. This new joker was standing over him. Before Xander could react, the man had brought a heel down directly into Xander's solar plexus. It felt like someone had dropped a bulldozer on his chest, and drove the breath right out of Xander's body. The man backed away quickly as Xander climbed to his feet. The guy just stood there, waiting. Waiting for Xander to make a move, obviously. Xander obliged him, tossing the same punch that had earlier cause the man in gold's nose to bleed. Mohawk stepped inside Xander's arm, blocked Xander's punch with both hands, and twisted, and once again Xander was flying toward an impact with the earth. And then Mohawk followed, leaping after Xander's flying body.

Mohawk still hadn't said anything. But he had a grin on his face like he was enjoying the fight. Xander righted himself in midair, and as the man's leap ended started throwing blow after blow in the man's direction. Mohawk managed to block or dodge all of them, and continued to do so even as Xander's blows gained speed. Without warning, the man had grabbed Xander by the shoulder and was flipping him again. This time, Xander reacted the same way he reacted to the Widow's shoulder-throw. He stopped in mid-air. Using the man's own arms as a lever, Xander pulled the man into the air, then punched him in the gut.

This time it was Mohawk's turn to feel the breath driven out of his lungs. His entire body collapsed around Xander's extended fist, and he slid to the ground almost bonelessly.

“Okay, anyone else? Anyone else want some?”

“I think I do, yes.” A voice sounded from behind Xander. He whirled to see the man in gold standing there; obviously in pain, but standing. The man in gold was holding out one hand, which was glowing the same color as his costume. “I am the Sentry! I have the power of a million exploding suns! I am always two seconds ahead! I always win!” And with that, he unleashed a great, burning beam of energy from his hand that struck Xander square in the chest.

Xander stood there in wonder. The bruises that had begun to form from this Sentry guy's initial attacks faded instantly. His nose, which had been broken, stopped bleeding and healed itself. The various little scratches and scrapes were gone. And Xander felt fresh as a daisy, like he'd just stepped out of the shower. He felt hyper, like Willow after a cup of coffee. Almost intoxicated. The man in gold, Sentry, stared at Xander in confusion. For his own part, Xander stared in wonder at the world around him, taking especial interest, for just a moment, in his own right hand. He stared at it back to front, then front to back. Xander had just noticed he was glowing. Just a little bit. A soft white radiance.

The guy who called himself Sentry growled, then rushed forward, intent on body-tackling Xander. Xander almost casually back-handed the man in the face. Sentry went head over feet and landed in the dirt. Xander stared at the other Avengers for a moment. Several were standing, though some more quickly than others. He laughed again, not sure why, but he laughed. Then he reached down and grabbed a big bunch of Sentry's costume in one hand. Xander looked up at the sky, then hauled back and threw the man in gold skyward as hard and as fast as he could.

The Avengers who'd regained their feet, Black Widow, Wonder Man, Yellowjacket, and the Wasp, were all staring at Xander. Xander stared right back at them. His gaze finally fell onto the Black Widow. With an intoxicated sigh, Xander waggled a finger at her. “Now was that nice? I told you I wanted to be left alone, right?” The Wasp nodded. “Good. I'm glad I told you. Now, you can probably track me to LA, so I'm not even going to lie about where I'm going. I don't want to have to do this again, okay, so I'm headed to LA. You guys stay here or leave, I don't care. Just don't bother me.”

And with hat, Xander lifted off like a rocket.

**XxxxxxX**


	8. What a Strange Place to Find a Noble Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“How far that little candle throws his beams. So shines a good deed in a weary world.” – Portia, from “The Merchant of Venice” by William Shakespeare_

**XxxxxxX**

For a moment, the Avengers who were still on their feet just stared as the girl rushed through the air, moving away at high speed. They looked at each other, as if unsure of what to do next. Then the Wasp immediately began issuing orders. “Simon, get after her. Slow her down any way you can. Even if you can't stop her, maybe you can hold her up for a couple of seconds until help gets there. Hank, you too. Ares –?” She looked a question at the god of war, who was still getting to his feet. Wonder Man and Yellowjacket immediately took off into the air, flying after the still-visible girl, whose glowing form was growing fainter and fainter in the distance. Ares nodded, took a deep breath, and then he too was moving. Within seconds, Ares was running faster than 80 miles an hour.

Wasp moved to where Spider-Man was helping Black Widow to her feet. The Widow looked pale and shaky. “Natasha, are you all right?”

“I think I'm concussed Janet. The entire world is spinning. I think I – I might need to see a doctor. And I think I'm going to throw up.” Spider-Man hefted the Widow into a bridal carry and strode as quickly as he could toward the quinjet without jostling her too much.

The Wasp followed. She watched as Spider-Man sat Black Widow down as gently as possible, then lowered her head to a thirty-degree angle. It was only then that he began to strap her into the seat. Without turning his head, the wall-crawler said, “Janet, now might be the best time to get the get in the air, I think. We need to get Natasha to the hospital.”

“Right. Hospital.” The Wasp sighed. “I guess Sentry is on his own for now.” She sat in the pilot's seat as Spider-Man squatted next to the Widow, keeping an eye on her. As she hit the engine start switches, she opened her mouth to tell the web-slinger to strap down, and then realized how foolish she was being. His ability to stick to walls was so strong that the hull under his feet would give out before he moved an inch. Instead, she got on the radio. “Simon, Hank, this is Janet. We're going to be airborne in three seconds. Natasha needs a hospital. She got hit hard and is dizzy and nauseous.”

_“Sounds like she's concussed. Take care of her, Janet. We're on this girl.”_ The voice of her ex-husband sounded tinny over the radio. _“She seems to be headed toward LA.”_

_“Confirmed. I think she's headed to LA as well. I'm closing the distance on her, though. Shouldn't be too much longer.”_ Simon's voice, on the other hand, sounded exactly as it did in real life.

The quinjet, being a VTOL vehicle, rose into the air slowly, but once it was moving it really moved. Wasp noted her altitude and bearing, then hit the jets. “Well, that's a coincidence. That's where we're headed.”

Wonder Man's voice cut in. _“Negative, Janet. Don't do that. Head for Marion Medical Center in Santa Maria. It shouldn't be more than six or seven minutes from your present 20.”_

The Wasp shrugged, knowing that Wonder Man couldn't see it. “Are you sure?”

Over the radio, Yellowjacket replied, _“He's from around here. He'd know. Go to Santa Maria.”_

“Roger.” Janet Van Dyne tapped on the quinjet's computer input keyboard, getting the GPS location of the hospital in question. “Rerouting to Santa Maria. Simon, I didn't know you were familiar with local hospitals.”

_“In between tours with the Avengers, I did some freelance crime fighting. It pays to know where the hospitals are during earthquake relief.”_ There was a pause. _“Damn this girl is fast.”_

After a moment of silence, she added, “I had to leave Sentry to take care of himself, Simon.”

_“He's a big boy. He'll be fine.”_

“Right.” Wasp just shook her head, concentrating on the piloting. The quinjet, for all that it was fast, was ungainly and not meant for agile maneuvering, and in the words of Hank McCoy, drove like an over-bloated musk ox.

_“Janet,”_ Simon said after a couple of moments of silence. _“You might want to check the reserve roster and find someone who's not only still friendly with us, but who won't mind dropping everything and giving us a hand. We're going to need some backup on this.”_

“That's a good idea, Simon. I'll get on that as soon as we get Natasha to the emergency room. Wasp out.”

**XxxxxxX**

Xander wasn't really paying attention. As disarrayed as he'd left the Avengers, he wasn't too worried about what was behind him. Only what was in front of him. As fast as he was flying he'd be in Los Angeles within twenty minutes, and that was plenty of time in which to disappear into the city's teeming multitudes. So, since he wasn't really paying that much attention, he was surprised when he felt the small increase in air pressure pass over his body from the rear. It wasn't much, but it was just enough for him to perceive it. Somewhere, something behind him had just broken the sound barrier. It had to be one of the Avengers. _Okay, Xander, think. Which of the Avengers can fly that fast, outside of Iron Man and this new jerk-off? Wonder Man, maybe?_

Without changing his forward speed, Xander changed his orientation. He 'stood up' mid-flight and turned around, effectively flying backward. _Yeah, that's Wonder Man all right._ The Avenger was perhaps a mile behind him and gaining. Xander looked past Wonder Man, turning his eyesight telescopic. About three miles past Wonder Man, Xander could see Yellowjacket flying as hard as he could. Xander blinked, and then noticed the moving shadow on the ground. Mister Mohawk was further back from Yellowjacket, running cross-country style at nearly a hundred miles an hour. The guy with the Mohawk was beginning to catch Yellowjacket.

For only a small moment, Xander considered going on the attack. He'd allow Wonder Man to catch up, grab the hero by the arm, and toss him into orbit. It was a good plan because of its simplicity. No muss, no fuss, and bonus points for it not being likely to kill the hero. He wasn't a real hardcore Marvel reader, but he knew his Avengers and Wonder Man always appealed to him for some reason. He didn't want to permanently hurt the guy. It’s just that, outside of the asshole in gold and maybe the maniac in the mohawk, Wonder Man was the closest thing the Avengers had left who could possibly be a threat to him. Getting Wonder Man out of the picture would divert the Avengers off of his trail long enough for him to disappear from sight.

Thing is, Xander really did admire the guy, and putting Wonder Man into orbit would just make the mad-on the Avengers had for him right now worse. It was exasperating. He wished for a moment there was a can or a rock or a piece of trash that he could kick. The fact that he was in mid-air, flying backward at high speed, just made finding such an object that much more unlikely.

“God damn it.”, Xander swore. He turned back around and flattened into the standard 'lay down while flying' position for greater aerodynamic flow. If his best guess was correct, he was only ten or twenty minutes or so outside of LA. But he knew he could do better, timewise, if he tried.

He grinned and then did just that.

**XxxxxxX**

Wonder Man kept his eyes on the girl. Tracking her was easy, as she was still glowing just a little bit. She was only about a mile ahead of him, and he was gaining. Of course, he was pushing himself to the absolute limit. The belt-jets that allowed Wonder Man to fly fed from his own internal ionic energy, and as such he effectively had an unlimited supply of fuel on which to run the jets. But if he tried to push any more of that energy through the jets, they'd begin to melt. The jets were red-lined as it was.

The girl was a curiosity, and to be honest he felt that what was going on with her was a crying damned shame. She was nice-enough looking for a teenager, and she seemed to have a pleasant demeanor. She certainly didn't have that _Hi there, I'm evil vibe_ that most super-villains gave off. The entire situation felt wrong to Simon, and he really didn't know how to react. Up until the point that she fell out of the sky and into SHIELD's hands, this girl had her entire life in front of her. And that was now all fouled up because some judge decided that locking her away in a psych ward for the rest of her life would be the smart thing to do. Tony Stark put the SRA and the Avengers Initiative together to protect both the supers and the normals – at least that's what he said – but times like this, it just felt like an excuse to be a dictatorial asshole.

If he could, Wonder Man knew he'd rather be fighting alongside Captain America and the resistance. But Stark knew where Simon's bodies were buried. The billionaire had never actually made any outright threats, or even hinted at making any outright threats. No, Stark managed to be subtler than that for once in his life, simply by making multiple speeches in which he remarked that Cap, and all the 'traitors' who supported Cap, would get the punishment they so richly deserved the second they were apprehended.

For now, Simon was chasing down a teenager whose only 'crime' was to be different. He'd never felt more ashamed of himself in his entire life than he did right now. Even during his short tenure as a supervillain, way back at the beginning, he never felt this bad about himself.

But he just didn't see any way that he could – “Oh shit!” he said to himself. The girl's airspeed had slowed very slightly because she'd suddenly gone upright and turned herself around to look behind. She was flying backwards, and was staring at him as he closed the distance between them. Then she shifted her gaze to some point behind him. Not wanting to lose sight of her, Simon risked a quick glance over his shoulder. Hank Pym and Ares were nowhere to be seen. It was just him and the girl. A girl who had casually tossed Sentry – one of the most powerful men on the planet – over the horizon. Wonder Man watched the girl's face as he closed with her. She'd gone back to staring at him, with a blank, almost emotionless, expression. For a second, her face betrayed a sense of irritation, but not actual anger. It was more the expression of a parent who caught their kid doing something messy, not the expression of a fugitive trying to escape custody. Nothing to do about it now. Only a couple of hundred yards to go --

The girl turned back around and flattened out horizontally all in one smooth movement. And then suddenly she was gone. Just gone. Not 'pulled away from him swiftly,' but 'vanished into thin air. Out of sight completely. The only trace of her was an explosion of dirt and plant matter sprayed up from the ground in her wake, just like the spray left by a racing boat on the water.

Wonder Man was tossed around violently by a cascade of shockwaves created by the girl's sudden burst of unimaginable acceleration. His ears rang from multiple sonic booms. The force of the air's implosion around where the girl had been a fraction of a second ago drove him right into the ground. He'd been swatted out of the air as easily as a butterfly caught in the backwash of a speeding semi-truck. Simon lay there in the dirt for a moment, trying to make sense of what he'd just seen. He picked himself up and dusted himself off as best that he could while working the entire event over in his head.

Even with the clearly visible wake the girl's passage through the air left behind, Wonder Man was halfway convinced she'd teleported. After all, he'd seen speedsters before and this was absolutely nothing like what happened when they went into overdrive. Quicksilver, the fastest person he knew about, simply wasn't capable of that sort of acceleration. He went over the course of events in his head again. The girl had figured out she was being pursued, took note of that pursuit, and then evaded said pursuit through the expedient of being massively faster than those who were chasing her. The fact that the girl had left an implosion of air that felt like a gigantic bomb had gone off in the area was just a side-effect of how fast she was moving.

Wonder Man tried to lift off and continue the pursuit, only to find that his belt-jets had finally eaten themselves. The entire belt looked like it was melting, slowly, and the burning plastic smell just added one more bit of fun to the evening. Simon looked around, just to make sure, then shrugged. What could he do? He took off the ruined belt-jets, then tapped his earbud. “Wasp, this is Wonder Man. I'm grounded. The girl is gone.”

_“Copy. You're no longer in pursuit,”_ came the response. _“Are you all right? Why are you grounded? Did she attack you?”_

“Negative. I have not been attacked. This was not an attack.” He rolled the ruined belt in his hands. “She's faster than we expected. A lot faster. My jets couldn't handle the strain of keeping up with her and melted down. I think there might be a spare belt on the quinjet. If not, I'm a ground-pounder until I can get another one.”

_“Simon, this is Hank. I see you. I'll be at your 20 shortly.”_ Despite no one being around to see, Wonder Man nodded in response.

Wasp's voice sounded in Wonder Man's ear again. _“We're almost to the hospital. Looks like another parking lot landing. Their helipad isn't rated for an aircraft this size. Has anyone heard from Sentry yet?”_

There was a round of no's.

_“Okay, I'm going to drop Spider-Man and the Widow off at the hospital, then come and pick you three up. Hank, Ares, once you get to Wonder Man's location, hang tight. I'll be there as quickly as I can. We'll try and pick up the girl's trail if we can.”_

“Roger, Janet. We'll hang until you get here.” Simon found himself a comfortable-looking stretch of grass and sat down. “Janet, I got to ask – what are we going to do if we can't stop this girl? I mean, why are we spending so much time on her? There have got to be dozens of truly dangerous criminals out there plotting to destroy the world, or to rule over big patches of it. But we're out here chasing down some scared, delusional teenager who hasn't hurt anyone except in self-defense as far as I can tell. This just feels wrong somehow.”

There was a long pause. Then Yellowjacket spoke up. _“She's a fugitive from justice, Simon. And you saw what she did to Sentry. How can you say that she –”_

“What crime did she commit, Hank? Can you tell me?”

_“How about escaping from lawful custody. That's a felony.”_ Yellowjacket wasn't backing down.

Wonder Man was silent for a long while. Long enough for Yellowjacket and Ares to arrive. Both men found comfortable-looking spots and sat, waiting for the quinjet to arrive. No one said anything for close to ten minutes. Then Wonder Man broke the silence. “It feels like we're scape-goating this girl because she managed to embarrass SHIELD and the Avengers both.”

Hank merely glared. “You know what, Simon? You're right. SHIELD is scape-goating her because she managed to get away. But me? I'm after her because she put my friends Carol and Tony in the hospital. Think about that for a minute.”

“Don't make this personal.” Ares finally chimed in. “There is nothing personal in this. It is unprofessional.”

Another long silence.

“You're kidding yourself.” Yellowjacket wouldn't look at the god of war, but his words were clearly directed that way. “In this business, it’s always personal.”

**XxxxxxX**

Xander made sure to slow to something a little less hurricaney and a lot more manageable before he got too close to Los Angeles's outskirts. He didn't want to break any windows or knock any innocent night birds out of the sky. Or knock any buildings over for that matter. It occurred to him that he should have hit the afterburners a lot earlier in his flight. The time between when he left Wonder Man in the dust to when he slowed to a few miles per hour over the Los Angeles skyline couldn't have been more than fifteen or twenty seconds. It certainly would have made it more difficult for the Avengers to catch him.

He stopped, just hanging in mid-air two thousand feet up. LA was huge. And very impressive. Not to mention scary. Xander took a moment to just look at the place, and he really looked. There were lights everywhere. Cars on the streets, stores that were still open. Offices where people were still working, even this late at night. Theaters. Restaurants. Entire rivers of moving lights out on the highways.

It made Sunnydale look like Mayberry.

It was funny. Sunnydale was only a two-hour drive away from Los Angeles. You'd think, with the big city being so close, he might have traveled there more often, either on his own or with his folks. But no. Such was his life that before tonight, the only experience Xander really had with Los Angeles came from watching television shows and a single, one-time trip made back when he was 10. But even then, the 'Los Angeles' portrayed in those shows wasn't the real LA half the time; most television shows these days were shot in Vancouver or Toronto or Seattle, and not even Los Angeles. And during that one trip, he was never allowed out of the car.

_Which means,_ he thought to himself, _that I don't know anything about Los Angeles at all._

From his vantage point, he could see the Hollywood Sign easily enough. It helped that it was on the side of a mountain. He could also see the classic Los Angeles Police Department building. He recognized that from old _Dragnet_ reruns. Dodger Stadium was obvious. Directly below him was the Capital Records building, which Xander couldn't help but think of as the building Tommy Lee Jones knocked down to stop the lava flow in that one otherwise forgettable disaster movie. And in the distance, with the help of some telescopic enhancement, he could see the spires of Disneyland's castle. He'd always wanted to go to Disneyland, but never had the opportunity. Maybe someday, if he was going to be staying in LA.

The rest of the city, and all its people, were nothing but a pure mystery to him.

For a while, and for a lack of other things to do, he cruised through the skies of Los Angeles, doing what Willow always called 'the tourist thing,' just looking around at whatever there was to see. Trying to get a sense of what was where in the city. It was pointless in the long run, he knew, because he was getting a sky-eye view of the place instead of seeing it like someone who lived there. But it was a way of wasting time. Time he didn't really have to waste. The Avengers would be coming, he knew. It was just a matter of time, and he had to hide himself in the city somehow.

Xander flew to the busiest street he could find, outside of one of the freeways and landed in a dark alley just off it. From there, it was a simply matter of acting like everyone else and hoping nobody noticed he was barefoot. The first street-sign he saw told him he was now on Hollywood Boulevard. Hollywood Boulevard at night was all neon and stores and clubs and restaurants and offices and other places one really needed money to fit into, but there was enough of a crowd to lose yourself in, even after midnight, so that's just what he did.

It reminded him of Broadway in New York. It really did. For a moment, Xander wondered about the other huge cities in America. Chicago, Miami, Seattle, Dallas, San Francisco, Boston – did they all have that one street that never closed? And then it occurred to him that if he really wanted, he could answer that question easily enough by just going to them and looking.

The problem of money reared its ugly head again. If 'Xander Harris' was a fictional character in this world, a character on a television show – and then and there he made it his life's ambition to find this show and watch it to see what they got right and what they didn't – then getting a legitimate job might well be an insurmountable problem. If he was make-believe in the Marvel Universe, then his social security number was nothing but a random number. You couldn't even get a job at the DoubleMeat Palace without a social. Thinking about it, he realized that it would be more likely that his social security number was assigned to someone else. That made him smirk. _Oh sure. Let's just add identity theft to the charge of evading federal custody._ Unfortunately, he might have to resort to doing that until –

What until? Until he got the hell out of this universe and back to his own? Until he realized he was stuck here and had to make a go of it? Xander sighed heavily. This was a problem he still had to work out. He was going to need a way to make money. Just because Kryptonians could go a while between meals didn't mean they could go without forever, and he'd still like to have a place to sleep that was out of the weather. Right now, it looked like he would have to find an alley, or maybe a rooftop or an underpass.

Another set of clothing would be nice, including some shoes. That thought made Xander stop and wriggle his toes against the concrete. When he noticed that he was gouging creases in the sidewalk, he chuckled and stopped. So, shoes. And more clothing. And some place he could take a shower. Even burger joints would refuse to hire him if he wasn't clean, and in clean clothing.

_And they're going to expect me to dress like a girl, because I looked like a girl now._ He sighed about that. If he was going to be realistic about his situation, he'd need clothing that fit the body he was stuck in, not the image in his mind of what that body was supposed to look like. A brassiere was going to be necessary, if for no other reason to keep his – the body's – he couldn't believe was about to think 'his tits' as if they were his. Xander sighed again. His tits were ungainly and got in the way. Hence, some sort of restraint for them. A bra was going to be necessary. Maybe a sports bra. Did they make sports bras in 'holy shit, look at her' sizes?

Xander stopped at a street-corner and looked up at the sign. Wilcox Avenue. Never heard of it. He looked around at his fellow pedestrians, and most of them looked like they had somewhere to go. He continued to watch them for a little while, even after the light had changed. Normal folks who looked as straight and narrow as they come. Goths. Punks. Obvious hookers. Partiers and club-hoppers. A female midget in a very revealing black cocktail dress being followed around by a camera crew. A guy wearing one of those sandwich boards that read 'Jesus Is Lord' on one side and 'The End is Coming' on the other side. And here he was, in a stolen pair of jeans and a t-shirt, with no shoes, wondering how to proceed with his life.

Xander kept walking, taking note of his surroundings. A 24-hour drug store, a coffee bar, a magic shop selling tricks and costumes. A hair salon. A two-man busker team who was doing a fantastic rendition of Credence Clearwater Revival's 'Have You Ever Seen the Rain'. He was beginning to feel very country mouse in this big city.

**XxxxxxX**

By the time the Avengers arrived, the girl they hunted was long gone. This was what they expected. Janet landed the quinjet at the Los Angeles SHIELD facility, and the team disembarked for a quick debrief before heading toward assigned quarters. Most of the team was exhausted and frustrated, except for Ares, Sentry, and Wonder Man, who were all merely frustrated, which made their debriefing that much worse. The team had expected to make a quick report to the local agent-in-charge. Instead, what they got was an interrogation via video-conference by Maria Hill, the Acting Director of SHIELD herself.

 _“So what you're telling me is that one again, the Avengers was unable to contain a teenage girl.”_ The contempt she felt for the heroes at this point was clear on her face.

The Wasp, who had been the focus of Hill's open contempt, wasn't having any of it. “Feel free to spin this any way you want, Director Hill. You're going to do that no matter what anybody says. We both know the truth, though. You sent us against an Omega-Level metahuman after telling us she was just a Beta. You can't blame us for the fact that someone who is stronger than Sentry and as hard to hurt as the Juggernaut is difficult to capture. And let's not forget that she's apparently faster than Quicksilver.”

_“How were we supposed to know?”_ Hill's anger was still simmering. _“For most of her stay with us, she was unconscious. In the three weeks, she wasn't, she never once demonstrated this sort of power. It wasn't until after she walked out of our medical facility --”_

“That should have been your first clue!” Wonder Man interrupted. He was holding the girl's file. “She just casually walked out. She ignored being shot by Hulk Buster rounds, and imbedded Doc Samson so deep into a concrete wall that it'll be easier to replace the wall than repair it. And he can lift tanks, remember?”

“Simon –” Wasp put a hand on his arm. Wonder Man just nodded, still fuming.

Wasp turned back to the camera. “Tomorrow morning we're going to start a search of the city. My guess is we aren't likely going to find her unless she does something stupid and flamboyant like taking down a bank or holding a school hostage, and your own psychologist says she's not the type to do either thing. Until we know more, you're going to have to be patient.” And with that, she deactivated the feed, ending the conference.

“God, I hate that woman!” Janet van Dyne fumed. The other Avengers around her busied themselves with whatever was around them. All except Simon. But then Simon was indestructible, immortal, and fearless.

“Janet, I wanted to show you something.” He gestured with the file. “This is everything we know about Karen Starr before our dust-up this evening. I'm trying to figure out what she did wrong to avoid this attention. I mean, sure she escaped from custody, but seriously – everything in this file says that she never once violated the law in any serious way, which makes me wonder why she was in custody at all. Since when is falling to the ground a crime?”

“She was an unregistered metahuman. The SRA –” Janet began.

“And at the first opportunity, she registered. Karen Starr, aka 'Alexander Harris,' aka 'Power Girl,' is in all regards in compliance with the Superhuman Registration Act. She's even scheduled for Hero Boot Camp, though for some reason I doubt she's going to show up for training now.”

“But –” Janet began again.

“No. Janet, seriously, this girl's crime was apparently 'found naked in a crater in Nevada.' She hasn't done a thing to warrant being held in custody against her will, much less done anything worth having us being sicced on her. She's been railroaded for some reason. No one asked her how she ended up in the upper atmosphere in the first place. No one asked her how long she's had her powers. Or how she got them.” He took a deep breath, obviously bothered by it all. “It’s like some nameless bureaucrat at SHIELD has decided that, since she's an unknown metahuman with mental problems, there's no real reason to treat her with the care that a scared teenaged girl might need. So why are we assisting in this witch-hunt?”

“Because she broke the law, Simon. She broke the law.”

“Yeah? Ever hear the phrase, 'had to go to prison to become a criminal?' What law did she break? Escape from lawful custody? Sorry, since when is 'found naked in a crater' a crime? SHIELD was holding her unlawfully, in full violation of her rights. They had no reason to arrest her, much less hold her or decide to send her to the Gulag.” Wonder Man leaned in close. “She. Was. Innocent.”

The Wasp wouldn't meet his eyes. “Well, we certainly put an end to that in a big hurry, didn't we?”

“Oh, you think?” The Wasp noted Simon's sarcasm. He was normally a friendly, jovial sort of guy who might give you a bit of a prod occasionally, but never through gritted teeth. It was a sign of how deeply Wonder Man was taking all this. “I'm coming to the opinion that all of this could have been avoided. It’s like with the Hulk. If the Army had listened to the beast once in a while when he said he wanted to be left alone, there'd be a lot fewer abandoned towns in Arizona.”

“Anyone who triumphs before his enemy's threats become real wins the war.” Ares's voice interrupted their head-to-head. Both Janet and Simon turned to see the Greek god approach. “Sun Xu. A very wise man, for a Chinese mortal. I have thought on many occasions that it was he, and not Guan Gong, who should have entered the August Portal of Heaven and become the god of the arts of battle for China.”

“That's interesting, Ares, but what –” Simon began.

“I overheard what the two of you were talking about, and felt a need to add my opinion. Yes, the girl was an innocent. Yes, the girl was treated shabbily, but what's to be expected? She's the daughter of peasants, and such folk have always been the grain ground to powder by the mills of the powerful. Now, though, now she's one of Echidna's children, with a vast and dangerous potential for destruction.” Ares poked Wonder Man in the chest, trying to get his point across. “The Nemean lion might have merely been acting toward its nature, but that didn't mean it shouldn't have been put down. She's not an innocent girl, anymore. She's a nuclear weapon waiting to explode. Treat her as one. Don't let this ridiculous 'compassion' you are feeling for the 'poor forgotten girl' let you forget that we still can't find Sentry.”

Ares nodded to Wasp. “The rest of the team has left for the hotel. I drew the short straw to notify you. Good night, Janet.” He nodded to Wonder Man. “Simon.”

**XxxxxxX**

Xander continued to wander. The taller buildings, glitter, and neon of earlier had given away to a more open area. It was still busy, and still featured the occasional club, but wasn't as populated. There was more trash on the street, and more homeless people. If he hadn't been trapped in the body of a Kryptonian, he could potentially be worried about his circumstances. This was verging on the type of area that vampires loved to use as hunting grounds. Which is why he nearly jumped ten feet into the air when a voice came out of nowhere.

“Hey, beautiful! How you doin'?”

Xander turned around to find himself being followed by a pair of young men, maybe in their late 20s or early 30s, whose clothing style made Xander believe that these guys were seriously into Miami Vice. Pastel colored sport coats over t-shirts, and tan denim slacks. Both men were smiling at him in the same way a shark smiles at an amberjack. The one on the right was busily looking Xander up and down, while the one on the left took his eyes off Xander's tits to meet Xander's gaze and smile.

“You look like you're new in town,” Right-Side Guy said. “Wha's your hurry, sweet thing? Where you goin'?”

Xander couldn't help it. He burst out into a laugh. He slapped a hand over his mouth to keep it from escaping, but enough got out for the other men to hear. The sound puzzled the pair.

“Wha' chu laughing for?” Right-Side Guy asked. “Wha... oh... is our accents, right? Yeah, we always get shit for our accents.”

That just made Xander laugh even more loudly. The man had pronounced it 'ox-scents.' Xander just couldn't help it. He giggled; he hated giggling, but since he got stuck in this body, it had happened more and more often. Apparently, Power Girl had been a giggler. “I'm sorry, guys, but here I was, walking down Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles and a couple of stereotypes from the movies come out of nowhere to talk to me. Really. Thanks. It’s been a day and this has been the best part of it.”

Now that Xander had stopped walking and had turned around, the men had shifted their gazes to his face – with the occasional sharp dip downward to remind themselves of the mountain range that Xander was carrying around under his shirt. For some reason, Xander found their attempts at not checking Xander's chest funny, too. That Xander was aware, he'd never been 'checked out' before by anyone, be it a guy or a girl.

Right-Side Guy smiled back and shook his head. “Okay then. If it make you happy, go right ahead and laugh, beautiful. You're cuter when you smile, anyway.”

Left-Side just nodded. “Hey, we ain't tryin' ta scare you and we ain't gonna bug you or nothin'. We just wanted to talk to you, that's all. We saw you walkin', lookin' like you do an' all, and thought you might need a little help. I mean – you got no shoes, you in dirty clothes. But you seem pretty fine under that grunge, so maybe Francisco and I can help you out.” Left-Side paused for a second, then continued. “He's Francisco.” He pointed to Right-Side.

“He's Sanchez.” Right-Side pointed to Left-Side. “And yeah, we just wanted to help you out a little.”

Xander's eyes narrowed. “Help me out how, exactly?”

Right-Side, the one named Francisco, held up his hands as if to say 'It’s all good' and grinned. To Xander he was radiating a sort of sleazy friendliness. “Well, we figure you look like you just jumped off a bus or maybe you thumb your way here to good ol' LA, but now you ain't doin' so well. So hey, how about we clue you in to a unique career opportunity that could have you making up to a hunnert thousand dollar a year if you work it right.”

And then it was Left-Side's turn to talk. “Now, we ain't hustlin' you, and we ain't gonna try to pimp you or nothin' and we ain't involved in drugs, so we ain't trying to get you high so we can, you know, do stuff to you. We ain't nutballs or nothin'. We jus' saw you walkin by and I say to Francisco, 'Francisco, a girl look like that, she might have a future', you know? So, can we talk to you about the future?”

Xander just stated at them. They still weren't reading as threatening, but there was a definite slime-factor here somewhere. On the other hand, what were they going to do? Whip out the kryptonite and chain him to a wall or something? “What do you mean, talk about my future?” Right-Side opened his mouth to respond, but Xander interrupted. “Specifically, what are you talking about?”

Francisco closed his mouth, then smiled wider. “Good! Good! We're negotiatin'. This is good. Anyway, you look like you got it a little rough right now, am I right? I figure we'd make you a deal. You give us jus' one hour of your time, sittin' in a bright lit public place, maybe get sumpten to eat, right? You listen to our proposal, we give you five hunnert dollars. That’s five hunnert cash, and all you got to do is listen to us. Hey, you don't like what I say, you walk and I still give you five hunnert, and that's got to be enough for you to get some clean clothes and some shoes and maybe a room off the streets for a couple of nights, 'cause I got the feelin' that right now you ain't got no place to go. Am I right, beautiful?”

“We won't even aks you to get into a car or nothin'.” Sanchez had been nodding along while Francisco spoke, but now took over the narrative. “We was thinkin' we can all go right over there to the Denny's and you can get sumpten to eat. Lookin' like you do, you muss be hungry, right?” The man pointed past Xander's shoulder toward the next intersection. Xander looked in that direction and could clearly see the restaurant the man was indicating. “I mean,” Sanchez continued. “I ain't ever been homeless myself, but I remember bein' poor, and bein hungry is the worse part of it, right?”

“You're going to buy me dinner, and all I have to do is listen to you.” Xander stared at them some more. “You'll buy me dinner and pay me five hundred dollars just to listen for an hour. What's the catch?”

“Hey, no catch! No catch at all!” Francisco looked insulted. “Sanchez and I are respectable businessmen, and we like to treat people fair. For a person of your obvious advantages, let's just say that we believe you catch more flies with sugar than vinegar, am I right?” Xander had noticed that the man's eyes had dropped to his chest when Francisco had said 'advantages.'

Xander thought about it for a moment. He could use the cash, this was true. He needed more clothing, and a night in a room would be nice. And as he'd already noted, it’s not like the men could hurt him.

“Okay. One hour. A meal and five hundred dollars. Let's go.”

**XxxxxxX**

“You're joking!”

“Nope. We're both bein' serious right now.”

Xander ordinarily loved the Denny's pot roast. Right now, his was growing colder and colder on the plate. The 'business proposal' dropped on him by Francisco and Sanchez had done the impossible. It had stopped him from even thinking about eating.

“You're really not joking about this?”

“Oh yeah, totally serious. Look, no offense here, but a girl built like you're built? You know, long legs, great ass, and tits big enough to land airplanes on? You could write your own ticket! You'd probably pull a thousand a scene, right? And that's just for straight sex.” Sanchez took another bite of his steak. “If you don't mind doin' the occasional girl, you can double it for a girl-on-girl scene. And if you get into the more exotic stuff like anal or a DP-scene? Maybe four, five times as much. Of course, if you're into the kinky stuff, like bein' tied up or peed on, the money could go sky high.” He took a sip of his coffee. “But I gotta tell you straight. Newcomers to the biz really gotta avoid the really extreme stuff.” He raised a hand, as if warding something off. “Not until you got a lotta experience under your belt. Or, you know, if you already into that scene, know what I mean?”

Francisco was nodding along, but he stopped, suddenly. “Hey, um. Alex. You need to eat, your dinner's getting' cold. Don't say nothin' yet, just go ahead and enjoy your dinner. You look like you ain't ate in days.” That comment caused Sanchez to suddenly look embarrassed. He'd been talking straight through and apparently never noticed that Xander had only taken a single bite of his dinner.

Xander ate his pot roast. It was still good, despite being just a little bit above room-temperature. You had to go a long way to make Denny's pot roast anything but excellent. As he ate, he thought about the proposal. What surprised him was that, as sleazy and disgusting as the suggestion had been, the two men hadn't cajoled him, lobbied him, or did anything other than make the offer. They explained how it would work, what the pay was, what the work schedule was like, who he'd be working for and with, if he took them up on it. Sanchez even had a copy of a financial statement showing what sort of money there was to be made, and had even mentioned insurance, including dental.

_But porn? Really?_

He finished his plate and rather than meet the eyes of the two men, he just stared at it for several minutes. Then he took a deep breath and let it out slow. “Look, guys. I, um, wow. I mean, um, thanks for the pot roast and all, but I don't think I could. Um. I mean, look. I'm still a virg--” His voice cut out as he realized he was about to say to two complete strangers. The one secret that no teenage boy over the age of 15 would ever admit to. Of course, as far as Francisco and Sanchez were concerned, they'd been talking to a teenage girl. When Xander uttered this nugget of information, both suddenly sat back in their seats. Their faces grew very serious, and they seemed to study Xander as if he was a very interesting lab specimen.

Francisco looked to Sanchez, who looked right back. Then the two of them looked back to Xander. “Francisco,” Sanchez said with a sigh. “I do believe we forgot to aks Alex here one really vital question.” He studied Xander some more. “I mean, lookin' the way you do and all, we both just assumed. But you, you're still a kid, ain't you?”

“I'm not a kid.” Xander's response was phrased as if he considered the question a joke. “I haven't been a kid in a while.”

Sanchez sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand. “I mean you're still under 18, right? You're under 18.”

“I turn 18 next January.” Xander knew that it was the middle of August.

“Shit.” It was Francisco's turn to pinch his nose. Sanchez pushed his plate away, then let out the longest breath that Xander had ever seen anyone take. The two men looked at each other again, then shrugged. “Okay, Alex. In that case forget everyting we jus' said to you. Preten' we been talkin' about why you ran away from home and how it'll be okay and you can always go back to your mami and papi and work shit out, okay? Preten' like we haven't been tryin' to talk a minor into bein' a porn actress, okay? 'Cause that's all kinds of wrong. Now, we ain't mad at you or nothin', it’s our fault. We should'da aks you how old you are and we forgot. We run a clean business. No drugs, no STDs, no kids.”

Francisco just nodded. “An' don't worry, you still get the five hunnert. In fact, here.” He pulled his wallet out and counted out four hundreds and five twenties. He also searched around among the business cards he carried in his wallet and pulled one out. Xander took the cash and the card. Glancing at it, he saw that it read 'Saint Bridget's Convent”, and had an address and a telephone number.

At Xander's curious look, Francisco explained. “It’s a convent. You know, with nuns? They take runaway girls for short term. It’s a soft bed and at least one hot meal a day for a week if you're willing to sweep around or mop or do dishes and put up with a little church.”

“You Catholic, Alex?” Sanchez asked. Xander shook his head, causing Sanchez to chuckle. “Don't worry, you will be.” He paused and looked Xander straight in the eye. “Look, kid, they're strict about no drugs, and if you end up trickin' and drag something bad back wid you like an angry John or an STD or heaven help you some hopped up gang banger got the idea he gonna be your pimp, you be out on your ass faster than you can call on liddle baby Jesus to help you. But you keep your nose clean – well, it’s better than the alternative for a week, okay? You go there and stay safe. And call your folks and let them know you're alive, okay?”

As the two men stood, Xander said, “I really don't know what to say?” And he really didn't.

“Say you'll go there and be safe, okay?” Sanchez put his coat back on. Francisco had never taken his off. “And hey, who knows. Maybe in January you come back and talk to us and we get you on to some real money. But if not, that's okay too. You go try and have a good life, okay?” He waved over at the waitress. “Hey, let me have the check, okay? And you bring this liddle girl a piece of pie or somethin'. She needs it.”

Francisco put a gentle hand on Xander's shoulder. “If I see you in a month out on some street-corner, tryin' to earn enough cash for your next hit of smack, I'm gonna be real disappointed. Call your folks. Even if you don't think you can go home, they need to know you still breathin', hokay?” Xander just nodded. “Good. Now get yourself some clean clothes and some shoes. You squirrel the rest of that cash away. It’s not for you to get high on. It’s for you to take care of yourself. Hokay?”

Xander nodded again.

“Good. See you aroun', Alex.” And with that, the two men stood and walked out of the restaurant.

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Francisco and Sanchez Fazio are based on real people. I have changed their names to protect the smarmy, but have tried to keep as close as possible to their generous and giving natures. Despite the sleazy nature of their business, they really are good guys. They volunteer at homeless shelters, give tons of money each year to children’s charities -- mostly the Make a Wish Foundation -- and have bought more than one runaway kid a bus ticket home. They care for and watch out for the women who work for them like protective older brothers.


	9. The Wounded Recognize the Wounded

**XxxxxxX**

_“Too often, we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.” – **Leo Buscaglia**_

**XxxxxxX**

It hadn’t occurred to Xander to ask either of the brothers for directions. He had the convent’s address, but given that he wasn’t familiar with Los Angeles in the least, those didn’t help him at all. He thought about it for a little, then asked the waitress at the cash register. While the waitress didn’t have the first clue about the convent, she did know how to get to the street it was on. And so Xander was walking again. He wasn’t sure why, but he got the impression that casually flying around would be a mistake. He’d have to navigate by landmark if he took to the air, rather than by street sign. And besides, the Avengers were still out there, and they’d been actively hunting him the last time he saw them. He wasn’t looking for another fight, and though he was sure they couldn’t stop him, he didn’t want to put up with the hassle.

Xander had considered just finding a hotel and getting a room, but then decided against it. Might as well save the money for clothes and a pair of shoes, not to mention incidentals like a toothbrush or a hairbrush. This was also the reason why he didn’t just hop into a cab. 

The waitress’s directions sent him further on down Hollywood Boulevard. The street had lost its glitz. The wear and tear on the surroundings were beginning to seriously show, and he suspected that he may have drifted into a bad area. Not that he was worried, of course, but again, he didn’t want the hassle. Xander paused for a bit and stretched. He wasn’t tired, precisely, but he was getting there. He’d expended a lot of energy over the last twenty-four hours, and his meal at Denny’s wasn’t stretching very far. 

What he needed was the sun. For a short moment, Xander considered flying into orbit and just basking in the sunlight for a while, but his innate sense of laziness kept him from doing it. Again, too much of a hassle. “Wonder how far I’ve got to go?” He searched around for a street sign, but was shocked to find that he was no longer on Hollywood. 

“The hell? When did I --” Clearly confused, he searched his surroundings for some clue as to how he made a wrong turn, or any turn at all for that matter, but there was nothing but the run-down neighborhood to give him an answer. 

Several blocks ahead, there was a group of people, all women, standing along one side of a fenced traffic overpass. Below them, what looked like one of the Interstate Highways was still buzzing with traffic, even at this hour. It took him a moment to figure out who, or rather what, they were, and why they were just standing around. _So, do I go talk to the hookers, or do I just wander around lost until I figure things out?_ Xander asked himself. With a sigh, he headed toward the group of prostitutes.

**XxxxxxX**

Wonder Man sat at the table, next to his laptop. He had a legal pad close, and had been jotting down questions to himself for the past several hours. Questions about Karen Starr. Questions like, _When did this girl refuse to cooperate?_ and _Why wasn’t her lawyer in her corner?_ Questions like _When did her powers emerge?_ and _Why did she run away from home two years ago?_ And questions like _Why is she insisting she’s a character from a TV show? And why a male character? And what are the odds that she’s telling the truth?_

That last question had Simon thinking, and thinking hard. 

It wasn’t too likely, but Wonder Man had heard of worse. Parallel dimensions existed. Reed Richards had proven it. The 'closer' – if such a word could be used to describe parallel dimensions – a dimension was to the one you were from, the more and more identical to yours it was. The dimension next door, for example, might be almost completely identical except for a single small difference. Was it really that impossible that this young woman was actually a young man from an alternate dimension? Except for the fact that she had a life and a history in this dimension, no, it really wasn’t _impossible_ , just really, really unlikely. But Karen Starr turning out to be a hidden Eternal was just so much more likely. 

Wonder Man was intent on figuring out the truth about this mystery girl. And if SHIELD and the Avengers didn’t have the resources necessary to do the job, maybe somebody else would. What was clear was that the girl needed help. Lots of it. Help that wasn’t “toss her in a psych ward for the rest of her life.” He tore the top sheet of his scribble-covered note pad off and, with just a bit of concentration, caused the paper to burst into flames from the heat transfer caused by his ionic energy. Then he started from the beginning. 

Simon sighed as he restarted. “Too bad that just walking up to her and talking in a civilized manner got tossed out the window early.”

**XxxxxxX**

As Xander approached the collection of street walkers lined up on the traffic bridge, he had one of those random thoughts that just came out of the blue at you and were appropriate to nothing going on. _Maybe I should get a bicycle._ Bicycles were cool. If he got a well-made ten-speed, he could pedal all over town. And there were advantages: you didn’t need a license, you could go places a car couldn’t, and you didn’t show up on radar like if you were flying. And it wasn’t like he could get all tired out riding around town, right? He needed a bicycle.

“Where are your shoes, honey?” 

The question came out of nowhere and brought Xander’s attention back to where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. Even with his much-enhanced senses, it seemed he was capable of just losing track of what was going on. He looked up before he really recognized what was being asked. 

“What?” 

“You ain’t got no shoes on, honey! Where are your shoes?” The speaker was a tall, lanky black woman in her early or maybe mid-thirties. She had on a black mini-skirt, a purple tube-top. In Xander’s opinion, the woman was just a bit too chunky for the combination, but at least she wasn’t overdoing the eye makeup. And the hair extensions were excessive. 

“Oh. Well, um, I – “ 

Before Xander could come up with a decent explanation for his shoeless condition, the woman leaned back and continued. “Oh lord! That ain’t your shirt, either. It’s at least a size too big for you, and looks like it belongs on a man. Why you wearing a man’s shirt, honey?” Xander, still stunned, didn’t react as the woman grabbed one shoulder of his shirt and pulled it sideways. “And honey, your tits they too big for you not to have no brar on.” The woman’s tone of voice was odd. It wasn’t friendly by any stretch of the imagination, but at the same time it wasn’t overtly hostile. More cynical and world-worn that anything else. 

Xander looked down at himself, still confused. 

The black woman continued, seemingly out of pity. “Girl, I don’t know what made you dress yoself like that when you got up this morning, but it just ain’t working for you.” 

“Um. Okay.” Xander said finally. 

Another woman chimed in. “So, who’s the new girl? Marvin didn’t say he got a new girl. He say he got a new girl to you?” The speaker was in her late 20s, and clearly some flavor of Asian. She was dressed in the same slut-chic as the black woman. 

“Naw, Panda, Marvin didn’t get a new girl. She just walkin’ on the street.” The black woman took a step back, allowing Xander some room. “Tits like that, she sticks around, Marvin’s just gonna gettin’ to her, though.” 

The new arrival – a vaguely Asian woman whose name was apparently Panda – gave Xander the up-and-down and seemed to smirk. “What happened to your shoes?” 

Xander had decided he’d had enough of that question. “I forgot to steal them while I was busy stealing the pants and the shirt.” 

“Forgot to – “A light seemed to ignite in Panda’s eyes. “Right. You’re one of the street kids. I came over here thinking you were someone new to the territory just starting to trick, but you’re not. Just a kid without any place to go.” And with that the Asian woman turned her back on Xander as if dismissing him from her knowledge of the world. The black woman smirked at Xander, and then she too ignored him. 

Xander simply stood there for a moment. “Um, actually I was hoping one of you could help me with directions?” The black woman gave Xander a quick glance, then turned her attention back to the street. No help there. And the Asian woman didn’t even acknowledge that Xander existed. The third hooker he approached hadn’t been paying attention to his discussion with the other women. Xander tapped her on the shoulder. “Sorry, excuse me. Could you help me with some directions?” 

The woman turned around, startled, but then smiled. It made the woman’s face light up like Christmas. “Directions? Sure. Where do you need to go?” 

She was shorter than Xander, though not as short as Buffy. Just as blonde, though the lack of dark roots told Xander that either the girl had colored recently or really was that blonde. She had an accent that Power Girl’s memories remembered as being from somewhere in the Midwest. She was dressed in a miniskirt, with tall dark stockings and a tight top over which she wore a denim jacket. She was pretty, though. 

“You still there?” The girl smiled again and snapped her fingers in Xander’s face. He started, then looked sheepish at drifting off on her. 

“Yeah, I’m trying to find this convent.” He handed the girl the card he got from the Sanchez brothers. “I’m new to LA and have no idea where to find it.” He coughed, then looked back at her. “I’m, uh, Alex.” 

“Nice to meet you, Alex.” The girl gave Xander the same up and down glance the Asian girl, Panda, had given him, but this time the gaze lingered a little. It lifted Xander’s mood slightly. “I’m Tiffany.” The girl turned her attention to the card. “Right. This is the Convent over on Kenwood. You’re only four or five blocks away. I stayed there when I first got here, but you’re only allowed a certain amount of days before they kick you out. I still go there for dinner, and when I need a shower, though, so that’s cool. The Convent’s a good place for someone new.” Her smile faded to a frown. “But you can’t go there now. They close the doors at 10:00 and don’t let anyone in or out until about ten in the morning.” 

“Right, yeah, morning.” Xander looked around. At the stars, the buildings, the street, and the hookers. “You wouldn’t have any idea what time it was, would you?” 

“Sure.” Tiffany looked at her watch. It was a cheap plastic model a kid might wear. “A little after 1 am. Call it 1:08 or something.” The girl gave the street a long look. There was still some traffic, but it was dying. Then she looked back at Xander as if surprised he was still there. “You got any place to stay?” At Xander’s suspicious look, Tiffany just laughed. “It’s okay, I’m not, like, a psycho or anything. I was just wondering.” 

“No, it’s not that. It’s just – “ 

“Aw shit.” Tiffany interrupted. She shot Xander a quick glance, then stared over his shoulder. 

Xander spun around to see the cop cars pulling up. Their lights were spun up, but no sirens. “Just play it cool and you’ll be okay,” Tiffany assured him. “They do this every couple of days. They say they’re doing spot checks for drugs, but it’s actually to drive off the johns. Like I said, play it cool. You’ll be fine. You're not hooking, so you're not in trouble.” 

Xander doubted it, but just nodded. If the cops ran his name, the jig would be up. His mind being what it was, he momentarily began wondering just what the hell a jig was and why it was a bad thing that it was up, but then he returned his attention to the approaching cops. There were a couple of plain-clothes types and about half a dozen uniforms. 

One of the detectives, a tall woman with auburn hair, started talking as the uniforms pushed all the girls and Xander into a rough line along the drug store’s wall. “Okay, ladies, you know the drill. Might as well empty the pockets on your own, because we’re about to. Darlene, don’t even think about it. You tried that last week and it didn’t work then. Why would you possibly think it would work now?” The woman directed this last comment to a girl on the end of the line. 

The uniforms were going through purses and giving the girls pat downs. Xander waited his turn as calmly as he could, but visibly winced when the uniform checking him ran his hands across the underside of his breasts. He felt like he’d just been molested. “Hey!” 

“Shut up.” The cop didn’t sound angry, just tired. He moved his hands down to Xander’s pockets, felt the wad of bills, then smiled. “So, what you got here?” The cop reached in, grabbed the money, and pulled it out. He looked at the bills, then whistled. “Looks like you’ve been busy, princess!” The uniform turned to the detective and handed her the cash. He kept going with the pat down, eventually reaching Xander’s ankles. “Hey, where the hell are your shoes? Hey, Lou, check this out. Princess here ain’t got no shoes!” 

The detective, who’d been counting out the cash the uniform handed her, paused and stared at Xander’s feet. “Well, there’s a new one. Five hundred dollars in cash and no shoes.” She seemed to peer at Xander with x-ray vision, then asked, “Let me guess. You made the five selling meth, but lost your shoes in a bet?” 

The uniform had finished with Xander and moved on to Tiffany, allowing Xander to turn to face the detective. “Actually, I was paid five hundred dollars for an hour of my time.” 

That caused the detective to smirk. “Wow. Five hundred for an hour. Must be something special. Hey, Louise,” Xander frowned in confusion when he realized the detective was addressing Tiffany. “You ever get paid five hundred dollars for an hour?” Tiffany didn’t respond, just looked down at the ground while the uniformed officer groped her. 

Xander felt his face getting red. It wouldn’t do to anger the cops, but this woman was out of line. “I was given that five hundred by a pair of brothers. They also gave me the card to the Convent that Tiffany is holding.” As he said this, the uniform pulled the card from Tiffany’s fingers, looked at it, and then handed it to the detective. 

The detective rolled her eyes. “Oh, Lord. Let me guess. Pair of vaguely Hispanic gentlemen in shiny sports coats and Guido moustaches. Offered you five hundred to talk to you about doing porn.” The detective shook her head. “That’s not a life you want to get into kid. How old are you?” 

“I’m twenty-one.” Xander lied. 

The detective smirked again. “Twenty-one, huh? Sure. And I’m Queen of the Netherlands. You should have said eighteen, kid. I might have believed that.” The woman stared at Xander, then back to the card, then back at Xander. “What the fuck are you doing here on Hooker Row with no shoes? Did Marvin sweep you up and make you one of his girls? You decide to turn tricks in addition to laying some shithead on camera? Does your Mommy or Daddy even know where you are?” 

“She was askin’ for directions.” The Asian girl, Panda, answered for Xander. She gave him a quick glance, then turned back to the cops. “Was trying to find the Convent.” 

“Yeah?” The question was directed at Xander, who just nodded. The detective nodded back. “Yeah, well, Convent don’t open until ten. Hey, Burney.” 

The uniform who groped Xander stepped up. “Yeah, Lou?” 

“Get her in a car and take her to the Motel Six out on Tivoli. She’s got the cash for a room. Stick with her until she’s registered and in her room.” The detective fished a business card out of a pocket and shoved it, the Fazio’s card, and the five hundred dollars into Xander’s hands. “Look, kid, this is not the neighborhood to be on the street carrying that much money in your pocket. Someone will kill you and take it. I’m doing you a favor. Get a room, take a shower, sleep in a bed, and tomorrow take a cab to the Convent. And if you need help, give me a call.” 

Xander read the card quickly. Lieutenant Denise Togorian, LAPD Vice, and then two phone numbers: one listed as an office number, the other a cell number. “Okay, thanks.” Then the uniform pulled her to a squad car and opened the back door. 

As they drove away, Xander looked back at the row of prostitutes. The cops were moving some of them into squad cars, but most of them were being let go. He had no idea what was going on, but it felt like he’d just escaped something weird by the skin of his teeth.

**XxxxxxX**

“All right then, I need to ask you a few questions. These questions are to make sure nothing untoward happens during your stay here. We are not judging you, and only in the most extreme cases would your answer disqualifying you from seeking shelter with us, so do your best to be completely honest with me, all right, Miss Harris?”

It had been a busy morning for Xander. Slightly confusing as well. He woke in a strange bed in a strange room that morning, and at first it had shaken him. The last room he’d been in was in a SHIELD cell, and for a bit he’d wondered where the hell he was. This room wasn’t his cell. The bed was just as uncomfortable, but his cell didn’t have an air conditioner under the window, or faux art on the wall. He stretched, looking around, and remembered the cop. He’d taken her to this hotel, a Motel 6, and stood there at the counter until Xander was checked in, and then further followed Xander to his room door. After a quick shower and grabbing a couple of donuts and a cup of coffee from the ‘complimentary breakfast buffet,’ he’d checked out and started on his way to the Convent. His way eventually intersected a McDonalds for a #13 Breakfast Combo with a coke. He’d thought it over while eating his steak bagel and finally called a cab. It took him to a Wal-Mart, where the confusing part of the morning began. 

Xander knew he had to buy some clothing and some shoes. The ones he had stolen from Macey’s were just about done unless he could wash them, and who knew when that was going to be possible? If he was going to be staying with some nuns, he didn’t want to show up looking like a wooly-headed barbarian. 

And it was here that he bit the bullet again. “Okay, Xan-man, you can do this.” He walked into the women’s clothing section and started looking. Finding a selection of shirts that looked like they might fit took a while. _In my defense,_ Xander thought to himself, _Power Girl is six-foot-tall and looks like a bodybuilder._ The average woman was considerably smaller than his current body. A new pair of jeans took almost as long. Women’s pants just didn’t look right to him, at least until he found a pair that fit. He had to admit, it made his ass look great. 

The underwear was painful. Absolutely painful. But again, he bit the bullet. The nuns would ask questions if he showed up without a bra and in a man’s pair of boxers. He did fine with the panties, but the bra was troublesome. He had no idea what the hell the difference in cup size was. He knew that the body was a 40H because he had overheard someone at SHIELD talking about it, but just what that meant apart from ‘Wow, those are really huge!’ he had no idea. But he did find a bra that size. It was this ugly white cotton thing, not anything he’d call sexy, but he figured that the nuns would look askance at him if he didn’t have it. The hookers certainly had. Putting it on had been a quick adventure, but he eventually figured it out. _That_ problem had only taken him ten minutes to figure out. 

Xander found a nice utilitarian pair of men’s running shoes – they didn’t have women’s shoes in his size – and some white tube socks. Then he was set. Another cab got him to the Convent, where for the past hour he’d been filling out paperwork. He had filled out the Convent’s information card as best he could. But he hadn’t liked it. For one thing, he was sure that somewhere in the Bible it said that lying to nuns was a sin. But he had to lie to them. If he told them the truth, they’d think he was just as crazy as the SHIELD guys did. So under 'name' he’d just put 'Alex Harris' instead of 'Xander' or 'Alexander.' He told the nuns he was female; that’s all they’d see anyway, and he didn’t want an argument about it. And he left the emergency contact numbers blank and didn’t put anything down about his parents. 

“Miss Harris, are you listening?” 

“Oh. Um. Sorry, sister. I was thinking about something else. I apologize.” Xander wasn’t particularly religious, but he’d always instinctively been polite to the clergy. 

“Are you currently pregnant?” The nun, Sister Mary Rose, looked at Xander from over her glasses. At Xander’s confused look, she added, “It’s in case we need to get you to a doctor while you’re here, dear.” 

“Ah. No, um, no, I’m not pregnant. I, um. I haven’t exactly, um. I mean, um, you can't get pregnant if you never – uh –” Xander blushed with his entire body. “You know. I, uh, haven’t ever, um.” 

“Oh!” The nun’s eyes got wide. “I see. Well, good for you. It’s nice to see a young person who doesn’t just throw it away these days.” Mary Rose smiled shortly, then asked the next question. “Do you use narcotics or alcohol regularly?” 

“No. Absolutely not.” Xander’s adamant answer caused the nun’s eyebrow to lift. “The last thing I want is to turn into my fa – I mean, um.” 

Sister Mary Rose was quiet for a while. “Your father was a drinker, I take it? Was he a mean drunk?” At Xander’s shrug, she nodded. “So, for you it’s no drugs and no alcohol. Do you smoke?” 

Xander shook his head. 

“And you’re not HIV positive, then?” The question was almost hopeful. Xander just shook his head. “Oh good. We must ask, mind you, but it’s not a comfortable question. Neither is this one. Is there someone who is going to come looking for you that we might need to notify the police about?” 

“No, ma’am.” And that was a bigger lie than letting the nuns think he was a girl. 

“Well, then. That’s that. Let me explain the rules, all right?” At Xander’s nod, the nun continued. “We can give you an evening meal and a bed to sleep in for a week, unless you decide to formally assume our vows and join the Dominican Order as a postulate nun. And don’t worry, while we might encourage you, we won’t pressure you. On the other hand, being a nun can be an uplifting and rewarding life, so it’s something to think about. After that week, we can allow you the use of a bed one night a week, if you are willing to work for it.” 

“That sounds reasonable.” 

“Thank you.” The nun gave her another grin. “As I said, there’s a work requirement while you’re staying here. Every morning, after breakfast, you’ll be assigned some chores that we expect you to do as payment for use of the bed. Just simple stuff like sweeping and mopping, or dusting, or doing the dishes. We expect you to do these chores before you leave the Convent for the day.” 

“Leave for the day?” Xander asked. 

Sister Mary Rose paused. “While we don’t require it, most of the young women who stay here tend to leave from the ending of their chores to just before the pre-dinner service. I simply assumed you’d want to as well.” The sister took on a sterner tone. “And I should mention that while we don’t ask where you’ve been or what you’ve been up to, remember that we have a zero-tolerance policy regarding drug use. If you show up at the door for service and are drunk or high, you will not be admitted. Is that clear?” 

“Crystal, sister. And you don’t have to worry about that, I promise.” 

“Very well, moving on. Every day, we have a pre-dinner worship service for the people we feed during dinner. Are you Catholic, Miss Harris?” The nun’s face seemed to brighten as she asked the question. 

“Um. No, ma’am. Presbyterian, though I haven’t been to church in a while.” 

“That’s okay, dear. We don’t mind. You’ll be Catholic soon enough.” Mary Rose’s eyes twinkled, as if this was a long-held and favored joke. Xander laughed, thinking back to how one of the Fazio brothers had told him the very same thing. “After the worship service at 5 pm, we have dinner at 6, and an hour after dinner is lights out. It’s possible you’ll get assigned dinner dishes, which means you’ll be working in the kitchen until after lights out, but we’ll see. Now, before you go to bed, you’ll be required to take a shower and change into a nightgown. We keep a supply here.” 

“A nightgown? Why do I have to wear a – “Xander started to ask. 

Mary Rose interrupted. “It’s a sanitation issue. We can’t control how clean you keep your clothing, but we can control how clean you keep our sheets and our beds. We require you to bathe and change into a nightgown. In the morning, you change back into your own clothes and turn in the nightgown. We’ll issue you a new one the next night.” 

Sister Mary Rose sat forward, putting her elbows on her desk. “So, Miss Harris, do you have any questions?” 

“Um. What time is wakeup?” 

“Wake up is at 7 am. Breakfast is served about an hour after that. We usually hold a short prayer service after breakfast that you are not required to attend, but the daily chores begin right there after and you are required to attend to those while you're staying here.” Sister Mary Rose took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So, do you think you can live with all our rules?” 

For the first time that morning, Xander smiled. “Yeah, I think I can. Thank you, Sister.” 

“That’s good. Now – you missed breakfast, and you’re too late to do any of the regular chores, so I guess we’ll see you back for worship service. Try not to be late.” Sister Mary Rose stood and saw Xander to her office door. “And don’t worry, dear. Things will get better. God loves you and is watching out for you.” 

She never heard Xander’s muttered, “Yeah, but which god?”

**XxxxxxX**

The mystery surrounding the girl continued to build as Wonder Man continued to dig for information. _It’s beginning to look more and more like she really is from another dimension, where all the TV characters are real, and the writers here on Earth got it all wrong._ He found information on the girl in the National Missing Persons Database a half hour ago. It was a slow search, because there were a lot of missing people out there. While he waited for that search to finish, he slogged through every other database he could get into, pulling related information from almost everywhere. He was trying to put a picture together that would tell him about Karen Starr.

He even did some research on Alexander Harris, the fictional character. Wonder Man reread the trivia snippet twice, still wondering how it all fit. Karen Starr’s hometown might have been some farming town in Ohio but Alexander Harris was definitively from California. A fictional town called Sunnydale. What caught Simon’s attention was the fact that apparently, the producers of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ had based the town on Santa Barbara. Wonder Man admitted to himself that he might have figured it out wrongly, but according to a map used in several of the episodes, Sunnydale was located just a few miles away from where the Avengers had last encountered the girl. Of course, according to the real-world map, the town would have been underwater, but still. Maybe Alexander Harris, or Karen Starr thinking she was Alexander Harris, had been telling the truth when she told everyone she was going home. There just hadn’t been any home to go to. 

So, Xander Harris. A comic relief character who had just begun to change into a solid and dependable asset to his friends in their endeavors to cull the vampire population. Ryan Reynolds had been praised for his performance, balancing the needed comedic talent with his ability to become deadly serious when called on. The character was described as willing to sacrifice himself at will for his friends. Who never gave up no matter how hard things got. And this was the kind of person they were chasing. 

The idea of her stepping out of the television into the real world didn’t seem too crazy anymore. Or rather, it seemed crazy, but was it crazy enough to be real? After several long minutes of careful consideration, Wonder Man abandoned the idea. It was just too silly to be taken seriously. She’d run away from home, her powers had erupted, and the stress of the eruption was too much for her to take, so she retreated into the identity of a fictional character. Once they confirmed her history, once they really knew what was going on, Wonder Man knew that they’d be able to get a handle on the girl, calm her down hopefully, and help her deal with whatever trauma she’d been put through that convinced her to abandon being Karen Starr in favor of being Alexander Harris. 

And hopefully they’d be able to deal with her in a much more pleasant, and much less painful way than having her boot them all around the room. 

The sun had just barely begun to peek over the top of the San Gabriel Mountains when the computer finished its search. It had located the missing person’s report originally issued about Karen Starr, and the investigation undertaken by the police in her hometown. Simon skimmed it, looking for information that he hadn’t previously known. 

Karen Starr had been listed as missing two years ago, on a complaint issued not by her mother or father, but by one of her uncles, and backed up by her steady boyfriend. She’d last been seen getting into a pickup truck at the local gas station-slash-convenience stores sometime after midnight. The driver wasn’t identified conclusively, but from descriptions it’s believed to have been her father. Dad confirms that he brought her home and gone straight to bed, but in the morning, she was gone. 

Several of her friends had speculated that she’d run away because of abuse at her parents’ hands. She’d regularly show up at school with visible bruises, and everyone knew that her dad was mean, so it was assumed she was getting beaten on by him. The girl had never been examined for sexual abuse, and refused to get medical treatment when she showed up injured. The best theory the investigator had was that the girl had snuck out after dad was asleep, and was probably now in New York or Chicago or Los Angeles trying to hit it big. Well, they got the Los Angeles part right. It only took two years, but they got it right. 

An investigator from Social Services had examined the girl’s room and found all her clothing in place except for a handful of familiar items that her friends had remembered Karen Starr wearing the day before. No luggage was missing. Nearly fifty dollars in cash was found stuffed into a jewelry box. 

_What does it add up to?_ Wonder Man thought to himself. _Everyone thinks she ran away, but she did it without taking a vehicle, leaving all her cash behind and not packing a bag. Everyone assumes she just ran away, but no one saw her after she got picked up by her dad. Her dad who had been abusing her for years._

A very ugly thought was beginning to form itself in the back of Wonder Man’s mind. 

The buzzing of the phone shook Wonder Man out of his reverie. He no longer had a lot of the same needs and reactions as a normal human being, but after sitting in silence for several hours, long after the point at which he began ignoring the clickety-clack of his own keystrokes, the loud buzzing of the telephone caused him to jump in his seat. His fists clenched involuntarily, and he gripped the armrest of his chair so hard that it bent out of shape. 

“Of all the times to – “He grabbed the phone on the third ring and took a deep breath. “We’re sorry, but the West Coast Avengers are no longer in service. If you would like to leave a message, press one. If you’d like to speak to an operator, press two. Si desea continuar en espanol, pulse tres.” 

_“Simon, has anyone told you that your Spanish is atrocious?”_ It was Stark. 

“Tony! How are you doing? Did they let you out of the hospital already? How is Carol?” Wonder Man was glad to hear from the man, regardless of how pissed off he was about how things had gone down. He needlessly rubbed his eyes for a moment. “What time is it in New York?” 

_“Well, in order, I’m still feeling beat up, they wanted me to stay in the hospital for one more day for observation, but I left against medical orders, she’s still in the burn ward and I haven’t been able to either get any specific information on her nor visit her because apparently, it’s a sterile environment and they don’t let visitors in there, and just a little bit before 8:30 in the morning.”_ Stark said it all in one breath. _“What’s the story with the girl? You guys catch her yet, or what?”_

Simon cleared his throat, feeling just a touch sheepish. “Yeah, about the girl. Do you remember back when the same pretty young slip of a girl who put you and Carol in the hospital threw Sentry into orbit, then flew off so quickly it looked like she teleported?” Wonder Man tried not to get snarky, but really couldn’t help it. Stark was utterly silent on the other end of the line. “You remember that happening, Tony?” 

There was a deep sigh on the other end. _“She got away?”_ It wasn’t really a question. 

“You’re damned straight she got away. Worse, she sort of vanished. We figure she’s somewhere in LA, but we really don’t have the first clue as to where to start looking for her. Seriously, for all I know she’s sitting on the roof of the building I’m sitting in right now, laughing at us. She shows up on radar when she flies, but she hasn’t been flying since she disappeared into the city’s clutter.” Wonder Man switched ears. “If she’s as fast on the ground as she is in the air, and I don’t see why there’s any reason why she wouldn’t be, we won’t catch her on radar until she messes up and starts flying again.” 

Stark was silent again. 

“Tony? You still there?” Wonder Man couldn’t even hear the other man breathing. “Hello?” 

After a few more moments, Stark said, _“You know, that would be a real ballsy move. Have you asked someone to check the roof?”_

Wonder Man rolled his eyes. “I’ll add that to the to-do list.” 

_“I’m totally serious. Make sure someone checks the roof.”_

“Okay, I’ll get someone on it. Listen, Tony – I’ve been digging into this girl’s past and have uncovered some things that make me get that itchy ‘something horrible has happened’ feeling. I’m no longer a hundred percent sure she’s not telling the truth when she says she’s from some other dimension.” 

_“Karen Starr existed before she says she arrived, Simon.”_

“Yeah, but was it our Karen Starr?” Wonder Man pulled his notepad over so he could read it clearly. “She disappeared two years ago, and it wasn’t her parents who made the complaint. Her friends all think her father was beating on her, and a couple implied that maybe he was doing more than that. She supposedly ran away, but took none of her stuff, not even her bankroll. Other than the fact that she disappeared, there’s nothing here saying she ran away.” 

_“Nothing to say she didn’t either, though.”_

“Yeah, well, I guess I have to give you that.” Wonder Man shrugged, despite knowing that Stark couldn’t see it. “I don’t know. It just feels hinky to me.” 

_“Right. And we certainly can’t have that. Tell you what, we’ll put an investigatory team on it. Run everything through SHIELD’s system. It won’t hurt to know more about this girl anyway, and if something hinky as you put it has happened, well… the sooner we know, the better, right?”_

“Right. That sounds like a plan.” 

On the other end of the phone, Stark cleared his throat. _“So, anything else?”_

“Yeah. I’m fairly pissed off at how SHIELD treated this girl. As far as I could tell, she was following the SRA and had signed up for boot camp. She was held in a cell despite SHIELD not really having any cause or legal standing to bring her in, much less hold her.” Wonder Man flipped to the second page of his notes. “And the government lawyer who supposedly 'defended' her apparently didn’t talk to her once, and was paid and employed by SHIELD to boot. That's enough for a mistrial. I'm telling you, Tony, this girl got railroaded. I am seriously not comfortable with this.” 

More silence. Then, _“Yes, I know all this, Simon. I read her file and saw the transcripts.”_

“And?” 

_“And while I am sympathetic to her plight, I feel we as a team must stand firm in our resolve to enforce the law of the land, and to support SHIELD in the enforcement of that law. We can see what we can do for her after she’s been returned to custody.”_

“Tony.” 

_“Yes, I get it, Simon. But she escaped from legal custody, and that’s the primary concern. Now, if it makes you feel any better, it’s not going to be our primary concern much longer. The team’s being recalled to New York. We’ve got a lead on some of Cap’s people and I want us to get on it ASAP.”_

“What about the girl?” 

Stark sighed before he answered. _“SHIELD’s people in Los Angeles will monitor the situation, and will call us in when they find the girl.”_

“You know that there’s absolutely nothing they can do to capture her, right? Hell, I’m not sure we can, for that matter.” Wonder Man pushed his notepad away in frustration. “Okay, I’ll round up the team and we’ll be in the air shortly. I’ll send someone to the roof, and let SHIELD know they need to send a forensics team to the girl’s home town.” 

_“You do that. Tell Janet to call me when you’re all in the air.”_

**XxxxxxX**

Xander, the 'girl' in question, had spent the day using the city’s bus system to explore a little bit. He got off the bus the moment it came within sniffing distance of a mall. Malls, he knew, were great for time-wasting. He spent some time in the Barnes and Noble book store, which gave him a chance to see what served as comic books in the Marvel Universe. He was surprised to find comics based on some of the ‘real’ superheroes like the Fantastic Four and the Avengers, but also found issues of comics dedicated to superheroes he’d never heard of, like _The Guardians of Freedom._

He bought one of the _Guardians_ trade paper backs – entitled _The Da Vinci Directive_ – just to check it out. What he found was surprising and sort of cool. The Guardians were obviously some sort of one-off version of the Justice League. There was the Batman-like martial artist Achilles, the red, white and blue clad Superman-clone named Ultraman, a guy named Crossbow who used trick arrows, a super-strong woman named Amazon, and the Sapphire Sentinel, a woman who manipulated some sort of purple energy by way of her enormous willpower. The entire Justice League was represented here in clone form, and he found it too good to pass up. At least this way he’d have something to read.

After purchasing the comic book, he stopped off and had some Chinese fast food from a place called Panda Express. _Why no one back home had ever thought of fast-food Chinese, I'll never know, he thought to himself. This is so much better than fast-food Indian food!_ And then he’d discovered the movie theater.

He stared at the poster for a long time. Someone had made a movie out of Frank Miller’s _300_ , one of Xander’s favorite comics of all time. He didn’t recognize a single actor's name on the poster, but it didn’t matter. He spent the rest of the afternoon watching sweaty Greek men die heroically fighting off an army of a million screaming Persians. It was great.

The bus ride back took so long that he almost missed church. He slipped in the door and sat down right as they began. He looked around to make sure no one was giving him the stink eye for coming in late, and when he turned to the left found he was sitting next to the hooker who tried to give him directions the night before. Taffy. No, Tiffany. He gave Tiffany a quick grin and a quiet, “Hey”.

She grinned back at him, patted him on the leg, and said, “Alex! Hey! Glad you found the place.”

“So,” Xander whispered. “I’ve never been to a Catholic service. What do I do?”

“Don’t worry. Just follow what I do and you’ll be fine.” Again, Tiffany grinned at him. “It’s sort of weird if you’re not Catholic, but I’ll steer you around the curves.”

**XxxxxxX**


	10. That Was The Week That Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“Time does not pass. It continues.” – **Marty Rubin**_

**XxxxxxX**

Tuesday, Xander’s first night in the Convent, turned out better than he expected. Not that he was really expecting anything. The Catholic service was strange, but Tiffany helped him out with it. Mostly it was knowing when to sit, when to stand, and when to kneel, and to at least fake it when it was time to sing. Dinner afterward was chili, with a bread roll and what tasted like orange Kool-Aid. It was excellent chili. But it turned out to be the conversation that was the real treat that night. Afterward, when he was lying in a bunk bed in a darkened room, wearing a borrowed nightgown, all he could think about before he fell asleep was conversation he had with Tiffany, and how surreal the situation in which he’d found himself felt.

“The way I figure it is this,” Tiffany had said. “You’re obviously new in town, and you’re down on your luck, so you need a friend to watch your back. Everybody does, right? I mean, I still need one, every occasionally, and I’ve been out here a couple of years. And you’re gorgeous, and sexy, and I don’t know. You just seem trustworthy and you were so helpless and confused the other night. So, I figured maybe you and I could try and be friends. You know, talk occasionally. Hang out when I’m not working, or when you’re not stuck here sweeping or doing dishes or whatever.”

At the mention of her ‘job’, Xander’s eyes had widened, and Tiffany had apparently noticed. “Yeah, I know, but I don’t do drugs or drink and I don’t do rough stuff or weird shit with the johns and I always make them wear condoms. I try and stay out of Marvin’s way so he don’t get mad at me, and I try and save some of the money I get to keep because I don’t want to be doing this forever. I go to church here at the Convent two times a week plus Sunday.” 

Tiffany took a deep breath, in preparation of continuing, but she’d caught Xander sideways glance. “Wait –“ Tiffany stopped talking and just looked back at Xander with an expectant look on her face. Xander reviewed everything Tiffany had just said, playing it back at one-quarter speed. When he reached the end of the mental playback, he shrugged. He didn’t trust her as – and suddenly he chuckled. Tiffany’s eyes widened, and her lips mewed for a moment, then relaxed. Xander almost said to himself that he didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her, but these days he could throw her into lunar orbit if he wanted to. And that was the point. This girl seemed nice, and she was trying to be friendly, and she couldn’t really hurt Xander if she tried. And since Xander had no intention of hurting the girl, why not?

Besides, Tiffany was easy on the eyes and it would give him someone to talk to. He figured his unease about the fact that she was a prostitute would die down; he wasn’t exactly in a good position to judge other people’s lives just now. Thinking it through, he smiled at the girl, and nodded. “Sure. Yeah.” She began to smile back. “Sounds like a total plan. I’d love to hang out with you sometime.”

After dinner, Tiffany, all the men, and about seventy percent of the women left. The rest of the crowd shuffled upstairs, where Xander waited in line to be issued a small hotel-sized bar of soap, a small towel, and a clean nightgown. Waiting for a turn in the shower was a bit nerve-wracking, as he found himself surrounded by naked women of various ages and sizes. It got worse when he realized that they expected him to undress also. He should have seen it coming, of course. Required bathing requires nudity. He just hadn’t expected a communal shower room, like the one back at Sunnydale High. The towel he’d received was way too small to be effective as a cover. _Well,_ he thought to himself, it depended on what you wanted to cover. He could cover his boobs with it, but his behind and his crotch would be exposed. He could cover his crotch, but that left his tits and ass hanging in the wind. He could cover his ass, but that meant his front was visible. In the end, he just didn’t bother. If the other women could get used to it, so could he.

He couldn’t help but notice the stares he got once he was naked. Maybe it was the fact that he towered over the other women. Maybe it was his overly large breasts. Maybe it was the fact that he was muscled like an Olympic weight-lifter. Or maybe it was everything. But many of the women gave him the once over then turned to other things. It bothered him more than he thought it would, but he put up with it.

When he finished bathing, he climbed back into his underwear, put the nightgown on, and then turned in his towel and his clothing. He was given a number, the cubby in which his clothes and shoes would be stored, and told not to forget it. Then he followed the crowd into the communal bedroom. It used bunk beds, like at summer camp. There was a general shuffling as the women moved about, most trying to claim a bottom bunk. Xander didn’t even bother. He climbed onto the top bunk of the first unclaimed bed he could reach, shimmied under the covers, and closed his eyes. It took a while, but eventually the need for sleep caught up with him.

Right before he went to sleep, he realized he’d completely forgotten his cubby number.

**XxxxxxX**

On Wednesday, Xander experienced something that, to him, was extremely surreal and disturbing.

Wednesday began with one of the sisters, Sister Mary Francis, turning on the lights and calling out “Up and at ‘em, ladies!” The nun then went bed to bed to make sure everyone was either awake or getting there. This was followed by a mass shuffle to collect day-clothes – Xander finally remembered his cubby number after being prompted by Sister Mary Augustin, a nun who was not only taller than he was but was seemingly built even more like a linebacker. She had a kind face, though, and a snarky demeanor.

He changed into his street clothes, turned in his nightgown, and then went downstairs to start the day. Breakfast was scrambled eggs and overcooked bacon and coffee. Afterward, Xander paid for his bed that night teaming with three other women to clean the five bathrooms in the convent until the floors were sparkling. He was released around 10:30, and when he stepped outside the convent, there she was.

“Alex! How are you this morning?” Tiffany bounced a little as she waited for Xander at the bottom of the convent's steps.

Xander smiled. Tiffany’s attitude was infectious, and she seemed to put so much good cheer into it that he found himself happier in reaction. The girl was dressed casually: jeans, a t-shirt, and a zip up hoody. Not hooker-wear, thank the gods. It was an unkind thought, he knew, and he knew that he was still reacting to the fact that he’d agreed to befriend a prostitute. He stared at her without knowing why, and only after several minutes realized it was that he remembered her hair being a shade lighter the night before. Weird.

“I thought we might take a bus over to Echo Park maybe, check out some stores, and maybe grab some hot dogs for lunch. Whattaya think?” Again, Tiffany’s expression was contagious.

“Sure, sounds great. You’re the tour guide, so I follow where you lead!” Xander shook his head. “That didn’t sound as hokey in my head.” That got a chuckle from Tiffany.

“No, it was perfectly okay. I need to hit a store for some change for the bus.” Xander realized that he was going to have to get used to this girl suddenly swerving into a new topic when they talked. “Do you need me to spring for your bus fare?” she asked. The question was genuine, Xander realized, and not made from worry that Xander would be a mooch.

“No, I can do bus fare. I need to get change too, though.”

“Cool. Anderson’s Market is right near the bus stop. C’mon, I’ll show you.” He allowed himself to be led, and in seeming no time, the pair was on a bus, headed for Echo Park, wherever Echo Park was. He’d have to learn the city sometime. Might as well start now.

Xander and his new friend had been riding for a few minutes, and had done so in silence. He’d caught Tiffany glancing at him off and on, but hadn’t said anything because he wasn’t sure how to start a conversation with her. But then it occurred to him.

“So, um, Tiffany.”

She smiled at him. “Actually, my real name’s Louise,” she said quietly, as if revealing a secret. “Louise Fulford. Couldn’t you just die? But, you know, when you – well, when you – when you do what I do for a living.” She sighed. “The guys expect you to be named something exotic. There’s nothing exotic about the name Louise.”

“Oh. Right.” Xander nodded silently. “Well, Louise is a nice name. I like the name Louise. If nothing else, it has the benefit of not being a chandelier.”

That caused Tiff – no, Louise. Not Tiffany, Louise. That caused Louise to giggle. She reached out and put her hand over Xander’s and held it there. Her thumb started doing a back and forth dance on the back of Xander’s hand. “That’s a very nice way of putting it. Thank you.” Xander just nodded again and smiled. “So?”

“Hmm?”

“You said, ‘So, Tiffany’ but never got around to finishing the thought.”

Xander frowned for a moment, confused. Then his face brightened. “Oh, yeah. You’re right, I guess I did, didn’t I? Or I didn’t, rather. I was asking you a question.”

Louise nodded. “Go on,” she prompted.

“Right. So, um, are you from LA originally?”

“I wish. No, I’m from a small town called Junction City, in Kansas. Junction City is an army town, just outside of Fort Riley. It’s named that because just about every railroad line that moves through Kansas meets in town.” Louise shrugged. “I graduated high school and couldn’t afford to get into Kansas State, and I wasn’t really into the entire 'snag a soldier and be a military wife' thing, and the town just got claustrophobic for me. My folks, they threw me out a little bit after I turned 18, and my friends were getting tired of me always crashing on their couches. I grabbed my saving account money and ran away to Hollywood intent on becoming a movie star.” Louise stopped for a breath and laughed at herself. “Obviously, that might not have been the smartest idea, all things considered.” She rolled her eyes just to emphasize her point.

“So how did you end up, uh?” He wasn’t sure how to continue. It seemed rude to dwell on her profession.

“It’s okay, Alex, you can say it. I’m not proud of it, but it’s okay. What can I do, right?” Louise looked sad nonetheless. “I ran out of money pretty quickly. I started hooking just to keep myself in groceries. I lost the shitty one-room apartment I was renting, and was homeless for a while. Marvin spotted me doing tricks in his neighborhood and decided I would work for him from now on.” She smiled at him, weakly. “So here I am.”

“And you can’t go home?” Xander asked.

Louise shook her head. “Not really an option anymore. I mean, first, my Dad was pretty solid on the entire 'never come back thing.' And, you know, second, if Marvin thought I was planning on running away from him, it would be bad. He assumes that if one of his girls is running, she’s running to the cops, you know? I wasn’t here at the time, but Marvin’s other girls talk about this one, her name was Cookie. She’d decided she had enough and was planning to go back home to Cleveland, or Cincinnati or Chicago or someplace like that. From what I heard, one of Marvin’s boys caught her at the Greyhound station, pulled her into an alley, and cut her face up really bad.” Louise’s smile was gone. “Raped her and cut her tongue out. Or so Panda told me.”

Xander stared at Louise. The girl looked uncomfortable at the attention, not realizing that Xander wasn’t really seeing her. What he was envisioning instead was a knife-wielding street thug having an unexpected encounter with a pissed off Kryptonian. Xander finally blinked, much to Louise’s relief. “Sounds like a nice guy,” he mumbled finally.

“Not really, no.”

Xander nodded, and silence descended again. Xander just stared out the window, not really paying attention to where they were going or the landmarks they were passing.

“Alex?”

He turned to Louise. “Yeah?”

“Do you have a boyfriend back home?”

The question came out of nowhere, and Xander almost asked Louise why the girl thought that he was gay. Then the reality of the situation hit him, and he realized that Louise hadn’t assumed he was gay; she had assumed, what with the female exterior, that he was straight. Going solely by external appearances, a boyfriend was a natural thought. “Nope. No boyfriend back home. Had a best friend who would have made a good one, I think, all things considered, but he died.” As always, thinking of Jesse McNally brought a frown to his face. It also made him realize that he hadn’t really thought about this aspect of suddenly being female. He didn’t feel any different on the inside, except when he did feel different, of course.

Thing was, he still identified himself as male, and still found girls attractive. He experimentally ran a few male celebrities that he knew were widely considered handsome through his mind. Harrison Ford. Rugged. Handsome. No attraction. Brad Pitt. Handsome. Athletic. No reaction. Jared Leto. Pretty. Very pretty. No – well, yeah, okay there was a reaction. But it was Jared Leto for crying out loud. Like Rob Lowe and David Bowie, Jared Leto was so God-damned pretty that even other guys thought he was hot.

When he tried the same thought experiment about beautiful women, the reaction was very different. Elizabeth Hurley, for example. The thought of Elizabeth Hurley led to thoughts of a picture in People magazine he’d seen of Elizabeth Hurley in a black dress with an extremely plunging neckline; a dress whose lines made it clear that she wasn’t wearing anything under it. That led to thoughts of Elizabeth Hurley out of the black dress with the extremely plunging neckline. Xander’s eyes widened as he realized that, being in a woman’s body and all, his natural heterosexual tendencies meant that he was effectively a lesbian. A lesbian! Yowzers!

“What was that?” Louise was looking at him oddly.

“Huh?” _Oh yeah, Xander. Brilliant comeback._

“I asked you if you had a boyfriend back home and you said no. Then you went quiet for a bit before saying ‘Elizabeth Hurley.' Then you were quiet some more before saying something that sounded like ‘yowzers.' Then you went quiet again.” Xander grinned at the fact that she said it all in one breath. It was so much like Willow, and he missed Willow a lot.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I’d said that out loud.” Xander hesitated. “I don’t want to freak you out or bother you.”

Louise laughed. “Alex, I’m a twenty-year-old prostitute who invited a girl she just met out for the day because she seems cool and might need a friend. If I haven’t freaked out yet, why would I freak out now?”

Xander couldn’t argue with that, but at the same time, he couldn’t outright say it. “I, um, the reason I don’t have a boyfriend is that I’m, um, you know. Not all that into guys. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with guys, it’s just that they aren’t what does it for me.” He wasn’t homosexual, so he wasn’t really cool with the idea of identifying as one, despite the reality of his situation.

“You’re telling me you’re into girls?” Louise’s eyes crinkled at the edges. Xander just nodded. “Whoo. That’s a relief.” Louise pantomimed wiping sweat from her forehead. “So am I.”

“Whahuh?” It was all Xander could respond with.

Louise’s smile widened. “I’m a lesbian too, Alex.”

“Tiff – Louise.” Xander stopped, then restarted. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a _hooker_.” He whispered that last word. “You sleep with men for money.”

Louise nodded. She had an expression on her face that clearly said, ‘So what? What the hell is your point?’

“Well, you sleep with _men_ , but you’re a lesbian? Isn’t that a little, I dunno, weird or something?”

That caused Louise to laugh out loud. “I only sleep with men for _money_ , Alex”, she said softly. “It’s – it’s – it’s a job. They go to town and I make the necessary noises and they finish and I’m out the door with their money. I don’t get any special connection with them and I don’t really enjoy it that much, but it keeps me fed, and clothes, and I can buy Tylenol when I’m sick. For money, I have sex with men. For that special connected feeling, I have sex with women. See how that works?”

Xander blushed, but nodded. “Yeah, I get it.” This conversation had led him to a very strange and bothersome place in his head. But it wasn’t the surreal and disturbing thing. It was nearly half an hour later when Louise hit the stop bell and they climbed down off the bus. Looking around, Xander was certain he’d seen this part of Los Angeles on TV before. It was all clean lines and bright colors and happy shiny people. Very different from the slums around the convent.

The park itself was very pretty. Lots of green, a lake, and a bridge that looked like an artist built it. He wasn’t sure why, but the workmanship of the bridge itself called to him. He gawked like a tourist.

“You’re cute.” Louise said, after watching him for a while.

“Cute? Cute how?”

“The entire tourist thing you’re doing now.”

Xander stared at Louise, open-mouthed. “Louise, is this a date? Are we on a date? Because you’re giving off 'date' vibes right now.”

Louise shrugged, acting suddenly shy. “I don’t know. I wanted to get to know you better and asked you out, so yeah, I guess it’s a date.”

He thought about it as she guided him down the street. Was he okay with it being a date? He gave Louise a quick smile. Stumbling backwards into a date wouldn’t be the strangest way he’d ever been asked out before. That would be that time in the 9th grade when Theresa Montavesco had knocked him down, stood over him like the mountain she resembled, and told him he would be escorting her to the Wilkins Junior High Sadie Hawkins Dance. Theresa had dragged him around the dance floor all night, practically carrying him while they danced. At the end of the night, Theresa’s mother had dropped him back at Casa Harris, and his date had announced that the entire evening had been a mad success. She even called Xander her boyfriend afterward. Neither Theresa nor her mother had made it home that evening. No one even saw their car again. Xander still wasn’t sure, years later, if he felt relief or sadness over that.

He wasn’t really opposed to the idea of dating Louise. She was friendly, and open. And she was sort of pretty. The only thing that worried him was what she did for a living.

Louise was still looking at him. “Alex, are you really okay with this being a date?”

“Sure.” He nodded, trying to be convincing. “Though next time we have to remember to ask about going out before we start the date.”

“Oh, I didn’t – I didn’t mean to just spring it on you. I mean, we had that talk last night and I thought we were getting along well and I just sort of assumed that maybe we could spend some time and get to know each other and have a good time.” Louise’s face fell.

“No, no, I said was okay and it’s okay and I meant it. Just a surprise is all.” He followed her across the street and into a store called Mono Records. Xander paused just inside the door and looked around. It was a serious old school record store. New releases on one side, and boxes and boxes of old stuff on the other. Without thinking about it, he drifted toward the used vinyl with Louise tagging behind.

“I love old albums. Not that I have a way to play them anymore, but I love them. They just sound more real than CDs or mp3s, you know? You don’t get the same feel from an iPod.” Louise began flipping through a box marked ‘A to B’, shooting the occasional glance at Xander from under her bangs. Xander couldn’t help but notice, and enjoyed it.

He had no idea what an iPod was, but he nodded anyway. “I agree, totally. I had this, um, mentor I guess. He was my high school librarian. Tried to keep us out of trouble and all. He had a record player in his office and a whole stack of old albums. He hated CDs and pretty much all other kids of electronics.”

“My grandfather was like that,” she laughed. She’d shifted her attention to the next box, the C to D albums. “He even complained about cell phones.”

Xander nodded again, pausing as he found a copy of the Butthole Surfers’ _Rembrandt Pussyhorse_ album. Cell phones were just becoming a thing when he was thrown into this world. They existed, but they were expensive and not commonly available. “I read about those in an issue of Newsweek. Thought they were great and wanted one, but never got one.”

“What, a cell phone?” Louise looked at him with a strange look on her face. “What do you mean, you read about them? Where were you that you’d never heard of cell phones?”

But Xander was no longer listening. He was staring past Louise at a pair of men who had just entered the shop. They were twins. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a rugged handsomeness. Xander heard Louise taper off as she keyed to the fact that Xander wasn’t paying attention anymore, and glanced over her shoulder at the people Xander was staring.

“Alex? What’s the matter? Do you know those guys?”

He glanced back at her, then back to the men. “Sort of. I’ve seen them somewhere.” Yeah, that was the fucking understatement of the year. Without thinking about it, Xander turned and stepped toward them. Halfway there, one of them spotted her coming and nudged the other. The pair of them turned to watch as Xander approached. He stopped a polite distance away and just stared at their faces. Xander looked back and forth, instantly classifying the two twins. One of them was wearing his own face; the face that he’d been born with. The other wore the face of his long-dead twin, Gavin. When he first saw them, he couldn’t believe it, and now that he was within arm’s length of them, he still couldn’t believe it. The sight of them caused his heart to drop into his feet. They were both older than he was. Maybe in their late 20s or early 30s. The ten-year gap in the timelines between this world and his own came back to him. _Right. If this is me in this world, he’d be ten years older._ But he still hadn’t said anything to them.

“Hi there.” The one of the left, the one wearing his face, said. “Can we, uh, help you with something?”

Xander gaped for a moment, not managing to get more than just a vague, “Help? With something?” out before Louise stepped forward.

“Hi, I’m Tiffany, and this is Alex. We were just hanging out, and, um, my friend thought you looked familiar. Right Alex?” Louise nudged Xander, who nodded.

Xander swallowed heavily. “I’m, uh, sorry to stare. You guys look very familiar. Like people I used to know in High School.”

The two men exchanged a look. The one who wore his face smiled and said, “You know, I’ve had that happen myself. Of course, the age difference is probably obvious.” He stepped forward and extended a hand. “I’m Nick Brendon, and this is my brother Kelly. Your name is Alex?”

“Yeah. Alex. Alex Harris. Sorry, you just looked really familiar.” Xander took his counterpart’s hand and shook it, gently.

The two brothers exchanged another look and chuckled. “I get that a lot. I’m an actor. You might be recognizing me from a TV series. Ever seen _Kitchen Confidential_? We just started our second season.”

“Oh, uh, no, actually I don’t own a TV. But, um – “Xander thought fast. “Maybe I saw you in something else.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I think me and my friend are going to go get something to eat.” He took Louise’s hand and began to drag her away. “You guys have a good time!”

Once out of the store, Xander took several deep breaths, then took off down the street. Only the fact that he was still holding Louise’s hand kept him from rushing away at top speed. He somehow realized that this was a bad thing.

“Alex, stop. What’s going on? You’re scaring me!” Louise tugged uselessly against his grip. “Alex! Alex, you’re hurting me! Stop! You’re – “she tugged again, trying uselessly to slow him down. “Alex! You’re, like, pulling my wrist off! God damn it, Alex! STOP!”

That penetrated. Xander stopped abruptly and let Louise go. He leaned back onto the wall of whatever building they were next to, slid down until he was on the ground, and cried. Uncontrollably. Deep long sobs.

He felt Louise sit next to him and throw an arm around his shoulder. “Alex, what’s going on? What’s the matter?”

Xander wiped at his eyes. “I’m sorry, Louise.” He took a long shuddering breath. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just had to get away. That, um, Nick guy. He looked like someone I used to know. Someone who’s, you know, gone. It just got to me. I mean, identical almost to someone I used to know.”

Louise just nodded. She leaned in and started stroking Xander’s hair. For some reason, it began to calm him down. He took a long series of breaths and tried to calm himself. Meeting his counterpart had been infinitely more surreal than falling ass-backward into a date.

**XxxxxxX**

On Thursday night, Xander didn’t sleep in the convent. Louise decided that, with the events of the previous day, Xander needed cheering up. She decided that their second date, as Xander called it, would be a movie called _Cars_ by the same people who made _Toy Story_. It wasn’t as good as _Toy Story_ , in Xander’s opinion, but it had its moments. They ended up staying up, drinking coffee at an all-night diner, just talking about things. The movie, past girlfriends, past friends, their home lives. A little bit of everything. A little bit of nothing. No world-shaking secrets were revealed, and nothing was really explained, either.

**XxxxxxX**

On Friday morning, Xander got to meet Marvin, Louise’s pimp.

 

Louise had told Xander that she was staying with her friend Panda for a while, and Xander had offered to walk the girl back, just to keep her company. They continued their talk, this time about movies they wanted to see, and what they’d be doing if they weren’t living on the streets of LA. Neither was paying attention, so when the large black car cut them off, both were surprised.

“Shit!” Louise turned to Xander. “Marvin’s here, and he’s going to be mad at me! I was supposed to work last night and I didn't. You need to take off! Go on!”

Xander looked at the large, scary men climbing out of the car, then back to Louise. She was clearly terrified. He shook his head. “Nope. A friend wouldn’t run.”

Louise’s eyes grew wider. “Yeah, but a friend wouldn’t let her pimp beat on her girlfriend, either! I don't want him coming near you, Alex!”

That surprised him. _Girlfriend? Were they at girlfriend stage yet?_

Xander opened his mouth to ask, but Louise had already turned toward Marvin. “Marvin. Hi. I was coming to see you. How are you doing?”

“Uh-huh. Comin' to see me? That so, Tiffany?” One of the men, obviously Marvin, looked Xander up and down with a bloodshot eye. His gaze concentrated on Xander’s chest. “You bringing in some new talent for me to look at it? Maybe that why you weren’t out working like you ‘sposed to last night?”

“What? No, she’s just – just a friend – a friend of mine. That’s all. M-met her at Church, you know.” Louise was clearly terrified. “I just forgot, you know? I’ll make it all up tonight. I promise.”

Xander was considering whether stepping in between the big man and Louise was a good idea when the big man took the choice away. Marvin grabbed Louise around the throat with one hand and shoved her against his car until she was bent backward across its trunk. He loomed over the girl and growled at her.

“Oh yeah, you gonna do that, but first, you gotta learn yo lesson about not doin’ what I say. The boys gonna teach you.” He continued to choke her for a second, before letting go and stepping back.”

This was much more than enough for Xander.

“Leave her alone.” His voice was much calmer than he felt. He wasn’t scared of being hurt, but to do this, he’d have to reveal his abilities to Louise, and he hadn’t quite decided to do that yet. And now the choice had been taken away from him.

Marvin turned at the sound of Xander’s voice. “The fuck did you just say to me, bitch?”

“I told you to leave her alone.” Xander took a deep breath and stood up straight from his usual slouch. When he stood up straight, he was as tall as Marvin and almost as tall as Marvin’s two guys. “I want you to get back in your car, drive away, and leave her alone.”

Marvin chuckled. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Listen to this bitch. ‘Leave her alone.’ Like she tough or something.” The man poked Xander in the chest, once. “You just earned what she gonna get. Grab her, Jamal.” One of the guys, obviously Jamal, grabbed Xander by the arm and squeezed, not that Xander could really feel it.

“Okay, Marvin. I tried to warn you.” With an almost casual shrug, Xander tossed Jamal over the car and into the side of the building across the street. The other guy just stood there, allowing Xander to step in close and thump him on the forehead. The man’s skull didn’t quite shatter under the pressure, but it was a near thing. Marvin growled at Xander and slashed with a knife. Xander caught Marvin’s wrist and squeezed it just hard enough for him to feel the man’s bones give way and cause him to drop the knife. Xander let go of Marvin’s wrist and grabbed the man around the neck, just as he had previously grabbed Louise. He pushed Marvin back and onto the trunk of the car.

“Louise, hand me the knife please.” Xander held a hand out, not looking to see if she complied. He was too busy looming over Marvin and squeezing the man’s neck just hard enough for him to feel it. “The knife, Louise. Please hand it to me.” A couple of seconds passed before Xander felt the knife slap into his hand. He brought it into Marvin’s field of view and let up on the pressure. He wanted Marvin’s attention for this.

“Marvin, I want you to listen to me.” Xander held the knife close to the pimp’s eye. “Watch this, Marvin.” With casual ease, Xander closed his hand around the knife and squeezed hard enough for the steel to liquefy between his fingers. Marvin’s eyes were as large as dinner plates. “If I see you talk to Louise – Tiffany. If you talk to Tiffany again, I’ll find you and I will squeeze your skull so hard your eyes will pop out like toothpaste out of a tube. I’ll break your legs so bad they’ll need tweezers to put the bones back together. Do not for one moment think I can’t do this, Marvin. I can. And if you come looking to get back and me for scaring you like this, I might just have to kill you. You got it, big man?”

His eyes still wide, Marvin could only nod.

“Good. Good. Now get out of here. Pick up your boys and get out of here.”

Xander let Marvin go, and turned to Louise. The girl’s eyes were almost as huge as Marvin’s were, and displayed just about the same amount of fear. Xander carefully took her by the hand and led Louise away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

They’d walked four of five blocks before Louise said anything. “You threw that one guy. Like, across the street, you threw him.”

Xander sighed. “Yeah.”

“And Marvin – that thing you did with the knife. You did that too.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry if I scared you or if you’re too weirded out to – “

“No. I mean, I’m a little scared, yeah, and a little weirded out, but I think I’m okay. I mean, more than you think I am. I mean, I’m terrified. Marvin’s going to be pissed off. Serious pissed off. And I guess I don’t have a job no more. I can’t hook in Marvin’s neighborhood, not without him getting pissed off. I got to try something else. But that’s not it either.” She stopped walking, looked around, and when she saw – or didn’t see – what she was looking for, gently pulled Xander into an alleyway.

“What’s going on?” Xander was still waiting for her to freak out.

Louise took one last look around, then leaned in to whisper. “You’re a mutant, aren’t you? Super strong. Tough. You’re a mutant, right?

Xander hadn’t seen that question coming. “A mutant?”

“Alex, trust me. You don’t have to hide it from me.” Louise smiled. Xander still wasn’t sure there was anything to smile about. “My Mom and Dad didn’t throw me out because I was gay. They didn’t like it, but they didn’t throw me out for it. They threw me out because I could do this.”

Xander was about to ask, 'Do what?' when suddenly Louise’s hair changed, going from the honey blonde color Xander had assumed was her normal color, to a deep, deep almost coal-like black. Then white. Then green. Then a mix of black and white stripes. Xander just stared. The color changes crept across Louise’s head like a wave, and he even noticed that her eyebrows were changing to match.

It took Xander a moment. “Are you telling me you’re a mutant?” She nodded. “And you have the power to change your hair color?” She nodded again. He turned to lean on a nearby dumpster. “This is nuts!”

“Nah, not nuts. Just – this. It is what it is, right? I can change my hair color, you’re strong enough to crush a knife and tough enough not to be cut by it. No worries, right?”

_Super strong and tough. Louise, you have no idea._

“Any way, I think I need to take you to meet Aaron. He can help you find a place to stay after you’re done at the Convent.” Louise held up one of her hands, back facing Xander. He could see that her fingernails matched the color of hair on her head. As he watched, it went back to honey blonde. He’d assumed the gold of her nails was polish. Now though --

“Wait, Aaron? Who’s Aaron?”

Louise shrugged. “He’s sort of.” She was quiet for a bit. “There’s this group of street people, homeless folk. They camp out beneath the 215 overpass. All of them are mutants. Or most of them are. Some are family. You know – normals, but related. They – we – stick together and Aaron sort of runs the show. He’s real smart.” She smiled at Xander again. “You thought I stayed permanently at Panda’s, right? Nope. I crash on a cot under the underpass, usually. Not perfect, but it does the job mostly.”

**XxxxxxX**

On Monday, at the end of Xander’ week at the convent, a small horde of government men, all carrying writs and warrants and papers giving them the authority to do so, descended upon the Starr family farm in Midvale, Ohio.

The family in question, Frederick Rowe Starr and his wife, Edna Rose McKutchins Starr, were bustled off property in an agency car and were now being treated to breakfast on SHIELD’s dime. They’d picked up on this trick from MI5. If you must invade someone’s home with a search, you treated them to a meal, kept them safe and happy, and maybe they didn’t try to sue you over the inevitable mess and occasional breakage that occurred during such searches. And if you found something arrest-worthy, you didn’t have to run all over Hell and Christmas to find them.

Senior Supervisory Agent George Newman climbed out of his government sedan, took a deep breath, and sighed. Ordinarily he wouldn’t be involved with a simple search, but apparently, this case was special. Someone, somewhere, higher up in the SHIELD machine than he was wanted this search done and wanted it done yesterday and they, whoever they ended up being, had wanted it to be thorough and complete, as if this was potentially a still-active crime scene instead of the home of a two-year-old missing persons case.

That phrase, 'two years,' rang in his head. _What in God’s own Heaven do they expect us to find after two years?_ Newman sighed again as he watched his team climb out of the vans and cars that had brought them all out to this butthole of the Buckeye State. Newman was a confirmed city boy, and while Dayton wasn’t the biggest city, at least it was a city. This place was in the ass-end of nowhere and looked it.

Small towns. He hated them. Not a decent Starbucks within 50 miles, and he’d had it up to his eyes in 'folksy' when he was growing up in Nadichick, Montana, population 84. He swore to never live in another small town and had lived up to that promise, and now hated it when he had to go to one. He was a Senior Supervisory Agent for an entire state, for crying out loud. He didn’t go out into the field unless it was something huge, like arresting Bullseye or something. This? This was just political bullshit.

Newman hated political bullshit almost as much as he hated small towns.

He gave the third sigh of his morning and looked at his clipboard. He could feel, rather than see, his team leads gathering around him, and that was as it should be. Without looking up, he started speaking. “All right. What we have here is a two-year-old missing persons case. The MP in question is one Karen Linda Starr. She’d be seventeen now, which means she disappeared when she was fifteen. She’s got a record filled with the usual juvie bullshit. We are not talking about Bonnie Parker here, just a silly kid who liked to cause trouble for her parents.”

He finally started looking around at his team leaders. “Witness statements suggest she was beat on by her father, but nothing was ever done about it because she vanished. Whoever it is that sent us this case wants to know if she really ran away, if she was sent away, or if she ended up buried under the potatoes, or whatever the Hell is being grown over there.” He pointed toward the field behind the house.

“Looks like arugula, boss.”

Newman just nodded, giving the speaker a quick glance. “Okay, Agent Fletcher thinks it looks like arugula. Thanks, R.J. I had no idea you were so knowledgeable about lettuce.” That brought a chuckle. “So anyway, we need to make sure the girl isn’t buried somewhere under the arugula. Or in the barn there. This is going to run by the usual procedures. Agent Spadowski, you and Agent Bowe take your teams into the farmhouse. Check everything, concentrating on the girl’s room; from what the mother says, all our MPs personals are still in there. Check for the usual traces, and notify me if you find anything out of the ordinary.”

The two team leaders, Kelli Spadowski and David Bowe, acknowledged the order and left to brief their own teams. “Okay, Agent Brock, I want your guys in the barn and the equipment buildings. Lord knows what you’re going to find in there, but check for anything that looks suspicious.”

“Anything suspicious. Well, that’s specific.” The man in question, Harvey Brock, was the type to find gallows humor in everything. He turned away from Newman and called out, “Okay boys and girls, we’re on manure duty!” That got a laugh from everyone.

“Billy, I want you and your guys on the vehicles.” Agent Billie McIntosh, the other team leader, nodded, spun on her crutches, and headed back to her people using that hop-scramble that made everyone around the woman think she was in immediate danger of falling at any moment. Amazingly, despite giving the impression that she was in constant danger, she never fell, not even over broken ground. That she had passed SHIELD's physical training regimen despite her cerebral palsy made her a hero in some SHIELD circles.

Newman shook his head at the image of McIntosh stumbling and rolling in the dust. Not that it would happen; he’d seen his able-bodied leads slip and fall all around McIntosh while the latter was solid as a rock. “Okay.” He turned to his last two team leads, Agents Fletcher and Hernandez. “Okay, Rick, Kuni, you two have the huge job. I want this entire property gone over with a fine-toothed comb. Get the methane probes out and look for shallow graves. Check for signs of any excavation that might be more than a furrow. If they’ve put any new buildings up, find out which ones. If they used to park their trucks somewhere else, find out where. You guys know the drill.”

“No problem boss.”

George Newman took a sip of his quickly cooling convenience store coffee and once more cursed small towns. His teams dispersed like the professionals they were, and he had no doubt that they’d get the job done. Though how much they’d find after the fact was anyone’s guess. He swallowed the last of the mud-and-water-someone-thought-was-real-coffee, put the empty cup back in his car, and followed Bowe and Spadowski’s people into the house. If he was going to be forced by his bosses to go out into the field, he might as well do something useful.

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mono Records, where Louise and Alex go on their first date, is a real store in Los Angeles. Its open every day, 12 - 7. You can find it at 1805 Glendale Blvd, Los Angeles, California, or go to their website at monorecordsla.com.
> 
> In 2005, Nicholas Brendon starred in a short-lived sitcom on the Fox Network called _Kitchen Confidential_ alongside future space-raccoon Bradley Cooper. The show was based on celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain's autobiographical book of the same title that detailed the chef's early years in the business. True to their usual nature, Fox screwed the show over by delaying broadcast, moving it around a lot, and playing episodes out of order. The show was basically dead on arrival.


	11. Dark Side Of The Moon, Side 2 Song 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“See, you get yourself three or four good pals, then you’ve got yourself a tribe. And there ain’t nothing stronger than that.” – **William “Billy the Kid” Bonney** (Emilio Estevez), “Young Guns”_

**XxxxxxX**

“Aaron? Hey, Aaron? You in there?” Louise had brought Xander to this makeshift community and to this shack specifically. Its 'door' was a sheet that looked nailed to the plywood making up the shack’s walls.

Xander looked around at the home-built 'neighborhood' tucked under the highway. There were junked vans, trucks, and cars being used as houses, a couple of thrown away couches that had been partially blocked off with plywood, and several make-shift shacks, including the one he was standing in front of right now. The look of it made him readjust some of the preconceived ideas he had about homeless people. He shifted the backpack he was carrying from one shoulder to the other more from habit than need.

Louise had been talking about Aaron their whole way down. Aaron kept the homeless mutants organized. Aaron kept them fed. Aaron organized scrounging teams that hit the landfill and construction sites around town for discarded material with which to build shelters. Aaron found help if someone got in trouble. Aaron talked people down if they got drunk or high and then got stupid. And it was Aaron who apparently had some connection to the local group of superheroes, who themselves were said to be a bunch of outcasts on the edge of homelessness.

Whatever Xander had been expecting, the guy who pushed aside the sheet and stood in the doorway wasn’t it. Aaron was dressed only in a pair of blue jeans and a pair of wrap-around sunglasses, and was an obvious albino. His skin was milk white, as was his hair. The sunglasses, Xander noted, were pink. Even the lenses were pink.

“Hey, Louise. Que pasa?” Aaron smiled at Louise, then very carefully looked Xander up and down. For a moment, he felt like a slab of beef under this strange man’s inspection. “Who’s the ice cube?”

Louise giggled. “Ice cube?” She looked at Xander. “You think?” The albino man grinned and nodded.

For a moment, Xander was unsure how to react. He had no idea what the guy meant by 'ice cube,' and thus had no clue as to what the proper response should be. He fell back on default behavior and gave the other man a quick grin and a wave.

“Aaron, this is Alex. She’s my – my new girlfriend.” At that, Aaron’s mouth quirked into a quick smirk, then went back to its normal uncaring pose. “Alex Harris, this is Aaron Robles. He’s one of my friends. And though he denies it, he’s the guy who’s in charge around here."

“I deny it because look around. You think anyone here is really in charge?” He turned his attention to Xander and stared for just a second. “Nice to meet you. Alex, you said?” He reached a pale hand out to Xander, who was careful to not put too much into the handshake. As Xander was pulling his hand back from the greeting, the other man was staring at his own hand.

“Whoa, that is immensely weird.” He looked back up at Xander, who just stared. Xander glanced at his own hand, then quirked an eyebrow at Louise. “So,” Aaron continued after a moment, as if what just happened never did. “What’s her story, Louise? Why bring her here?”

“She’s one of us, Aaron. You should have seen it. Marvin came by all mad ‘cause I skipped out on work last night. He grabbed me and was choking me, and Alex beat the shit out of him. It was awesome. And since she’s about done with her week at the convent and needs a place to crash, I figured she could crash with me. I can find another cot and we’ll get her a bag and she can share my corner.”

“Beat the shit out of Marvin? How’s she do that? I mean, sure, she’s got that 'Chyna from WWF' thing goin’ on, but I can’t see her getting away with throwing a punch at Marvin, much less beating the shit out of him.” Aaron stared at the pair of them before turning back into his shack. “Oh for fuck’s sake. C’mon.” Louise was through the door quickly, and Xander could only shrug and follow. Aaron stepped aside and waved them into his shack.

The interior was lit by an old-fashioned Coleman lantern, like the kind his Uncle Rory occasionally used to light up his garage. Aaron stepped carefully past them in the tight quarters, then dug around in a small igloo cooler. He handed both of his guests a bottle of water and sat on a bench made of boards and cinder blocks. Louise perched on an overturned milk crate, and motioned Xander to join her on another, slinging the backpack down between his legs. While this was going on, the albino man took a long pull from his bottle of water. Aaron continued staring before shaking his head again.

“This thing with Marvin. Is he gonna come around looking to get some payback on you or Blondie here? Is this going to cause people trouble, Louise? ‘Cause if so, you two need to walk. Now. We can’t afford to have Marvin and his shitheads comin’ in and bustin’ up the place again. Not with some of the kids we got here.”

Louise looked upset, but just shook her head. “Alex scared Marvin shitless, Aaron! There’s no way he wants any trouble from her.”

“Uh huh.” Aaron shook his head once more. “Right. So, Beach Bunny here’s got Marvin afraid of his own shadow. Right. Louise, I’ve known Marvin awhile, and I know that when he gets scared of something, there’s a chance he’ll keep away from it. But there’s also a chance that he’ll come in here with eight or nine guys packing Mac-10s, shootin’ everybody that gets in their way, all because your friend here disrespected him in front of his own crew.”

Xander looked at Louise. Louise looked at Xander. “I can’t say a hundred percent, but I don’t think it’s gonna happen, Aaron. We just got nowhere else to go. I got my stuff here, and I figured Alex and I could stay in my spot. I’m sure Alex will help around like everybody else does. And she’s got to be useful, as strong as she is.”

Xander was nodding. “Of course, I’ll help out.”

Aaron chuckled, but it wasn’t a happy chuckle. “That include helping take care of Marvin’s goons if they come lookin’ for you?”

“Of course.”

“Uh huh. And when you’re not here?” At Xander’s blank look, the man just shook his head. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I got to hand it to you, protecting Louise from that shit-stain Marvin, but you should have taken him out all the way. All you done is embarrass him. So it isn’t a question of whether Marvin will come, but when Marvin will come.”

“I can’t stand by and just let things happen to my friends.” Xander looked over at Louise and smiled. “She’s my friend, so I’ll protect her. I can protect the rest of you all from the gang-bangers too, if that’s what it’ll cost me to stay here for a little while. If you need help in other ways, I don’t mind helping then, either.”

Xander looked at Louise, who patted Xander on the knee and said, “She’s strong. Real strong. She tossed Jamal right across Queen Street hard enough that he smashed into the side of Pablo’s Pawn, then thumped Baby Ray in the head hard enough to drop him. Picked Marvin by the throat and held him off the ground like he was nothing. And Marvin’s knife didn’t cut her. There’s got to be a lot of ways she can help, Aaron. Lots of ways.” Louise gave Xander a quick look and a wink. Xander wasn’t quite sure what that look meant.

The look also caused Aaron to chuckle. “Louise is just your friend, huh?” Once again, his eyes were on Xander. They seemed to bore into Xander and see through him a moment. “Yeah, okay. She’s one of us, after all, that’s for damned sure.” Before Xander could ask what he meant by that, Aaron asked, “So, Alex, I got to ask. What are you doing with all that heat?”

Xander’s bottle of water stopped its motion toward his mouth. “Say what?”

“Yeah, you read like you’re cooler than everything around you, yet when I touch you, you’re warm enough to heat my hand up. You’re eating up the heat around you. What’s up with that?”

Louise leaned in. “He can see whatchacallit – heat radiation. I forget the word for it.”

“Infrared. I see into the range of infrared light. That’s my ‘superpower’. Some power, don’t you think? Real superhero material.” He chuckled again and took another swallow from his water bottle. The chuckle was authentic, and Xander found it calming a little. “Problem is, all the colors I see with infrared tend to blend with what I’m seeing in visible light. It means I miss a lot of the surface detail, but can tell things like the fact that you seem to be eating all the heat that’s pouring into you from the sunlight without it warming you up.”

Xander finally got the joke. “When you said ice cube it was because – “

“Because to my eyes, you look blue, which is typically a color associated with a lack of heat. But you’re warm enough to the touch, like I said, to add to my hand’s heat. Which again raises the question what you do with it all.”

“Oh.” Xander thought for a moment before finding the answer in Kara Zor-El’s memories. “I’m, uh, metabolizing it. I sort of use it for fuel.” He shrugged and grinned at Louise. “If I get exposed to sunlight regularly, I stay strong and hard to hurt.

“Strength and invulnerability. That’s a classic combination. If you could fly, you’d have the whole package.” Aaron chuckled again and took another pull from his bottle, but cut it short when he caught Xander’s sheepish look. “Get out! You can fly too?”

Louise goggled. “Alex? Is he right, you can fly?” And Xander _really_ didn’t know what to make of that look.

Xander smiled at her while shrugging toward Aaron. He tried to duck the question. “What do you mean whole package?”

“Ever read any of the old _Hyperion Academy_ comics? About the high school for super-powered teenagers?” Xander shook his head and Aaron continued. “They called it the ‘FISS package,' and said it was the most common-place combination of superpowers in the world. Or at least in the comic book world, you know? ‘FISS’ stood for flight, invulnerability, and super strength.” Aaron finished the water in his bottle, then carefully put the bottle back in the cooler. “So, Alex, you never did answer the question. Can you fly?”

Xander shrugged again. Louise was looking at him with wide eyes and grinning. It was the grin that did it.

“Holy shit! I can’t believe it! That must be so cool!” Louise was bouncing a little. “Alex you’ve got to take me flying some time! Like, sight-seeing! Wait. How far and fast can you fly? Could you fly us to like, San Francisco? Or is that too far?”

“Well, I, um. San Francisco? I don’t think that would, um. I, um, I try not to fly around in the city because it’s too easy to be recognized. But I guess if we, like, got outside of LA first, I guess we could – it’s just that I’m trying to keep out of sight right now.”

“Yeah, ain’t we all?” Aaron sat back and stretched. He seemed much less hostile toward Xander and much more conciliatory. Not yet welcoming, but at least willing to give it a shot. “Well, been a while since we had a heavy hitter with us. Normally people like you end up in a hero team. Or knocking over banks. I’m thinking the fact that you’re here means you’re not knocking over banks.” Xander shrugged again. He hadn’t intended to reveal the fact that he could fly, but he couldn’t control his reaction to Aaron making the joke about it. The guy was good at reading body language.

There was a scratch at Aaron’s 'door.' At his invitation, a girl of maybe thirteen or maybe fourteen at the outside stuck her head in under the sheet. “Ahrn, meen Gohah gurn twa schturr. See cowashum kass sho wen glect tink shwe ned?” It was obviously a question, but Xander couldn’t understand a word of it. The girl’s jaws were distended and looked heavily muscled in the same way that a champion-level bodybuilder’s arms were heavily muscled. When the girl opened her mouth to talk, at least three rows of large, flat-topped teeth could be seen. Xander got the impression that if this young lady wanted to, she could bite through an inch-thick steel cable. Not necessarily the most useful mutation and it did things to her ability to speak clearly.

Aaron didn’t have any problem understanding her, apparently. “That’s okay, Jan. You tell your mom that I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine. She worked hard for that money and she should get you something special if she’s going to the grocery store. Maybe a candy bar for you. Oh, hey, this is Louise’s friend Alex. She’s going to be living with Louise for a while.”

The girl looked at Xander nervously, but managed what looked like a distorted smile. It made the girl drool heavily, but Xander ignored it and smiled back and waved. _The way she looks isn’t the girl’s fault. Do not stare. Whatever you do, do not stare at her!_ “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

The girl blinked again, and the distorted smile got wider. “Nighsh glu meeglu goo.” And then the girl was gone.

Aaron studied Alex closely under his pink sunglasses, then smiled again. “You did good, Alex. Jan’s shy around people she doesn’t know. Anyway, welcome to the family. I hope you don’t mind, but I might call on you occasionally to help, now that I know what you can do. Nothing huge and nothing nasty. Just, you know, occasionally moving something, or helping if the idiot gang-bangers come by looking to harass someone. Or, I don’t know – driving nails with your thumbs or something.” Aaron turned to Louise. “Oz came back two nights ago, bleeding a little from where a banger knocked him down. Took everything he collected for the day, too.”

“Oz?” Xander knew it couldn’t be the same person, but he couldn’t help but ask.

“Oz is amazing,” Louise said. “He’s a street performer. Puts out an empty violin case, does his act for five or six hours, and lives off what he collects. He’s usually good for twenty or thirty dollars a day. And his act is fantastic. I’ll introduce you on the way to my place.”

Xander shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on still. “Sure. Let’s go see your place.”

They climbed out of Aaron’s over-crowded shack and Louise led him deeper into the small Hooverville-like community under the overpass. Xander tried to take in everything and everyone around him as he followed Louise.

She took care to introduce Xander to an older black man who was just outside a large wooden crate, inside of which he had made himself a home. When they approached, the man was practicing a soft-shoe routine and was singing softly to himself. Xander concentrated for a moment and could suddenly hear the man singing 'If I Only Had a Brain' to himself with the barest hint of a Jamaican accent. The song connected, and Xander realized that the dance moves the man was practicing were those that Ray Bolger himself had performed as the Scarecrow from the Judy Garland version of _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_.

Louise caught him watching the dancer. “That’s Oz. He’s a sweetheart, and talented as the day is long. Great dancer, and he’s got a beautiful singing voice.”

“Is he, um, I mean does he have, uh— “Xander didn’t quite know how to ask the question.

“Is he a mutant like us? Sure is.” Xander tried not to wince at Louise’s use of ‘like us’. He didn’t like lying to her about being a mutant, but he had to admit that letting her think that was easier than trying to explain how he was a man from another dimension stuck in the body of an extraterrestrial from planet Krypton. “Most of the people here are. Not all of them, but most. Some of the ones who aren’t are the kids whose parents are, or are boyfriends or wives or moms and dads. And some are regular folks Aaron let’s stay here just because. You know, this is just a bunch of people who live close and try to help each other, not like it’s a cult of mutants or something.”

Xander nodded and looked over his shoulder at Oz, who was still dancing. He stopped in shock when he realized that Oz had been replaced with a clone of Judy Garland’s character Dorothy Gale, down to her blue farmer smock and white apron. Dorothy did some tap steps, then suddenly turned into Jack Haley’s Tin Man, who completed the dance move.

“What the hell?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s what Oz can do. He can change the way you see him when you look at him, but he can only make you see characters from _The Wizard of Oz_. You’d think a person who could make other people see them differently would be able to become anybody, but he can only become the cast of _Wizard of Oz_.” She shrugged and grinned. “It’s a better power than changing your hair color, I guess.”

Xander suddenly got it. “That’s why you call him Oz, right?”

“Right! Exactly! He told me his real name once, but I forget what it was. I think it was Raymond or maybe Richard. But no one calls him that. They just call him Oz.” Her face brightened up as she tugged on Xander’s arm. “Come on! We’re in here!”

'Here' turned out to be a yellow school bus whose engine block was missing and whose front wheels lacked tired and were instead propped up on blocks. “The bus is a pretty good place to stay, even if we have to share it with six other people. There’s lots of space, but people are constantly tramping past your place, you know?” Louise stopped at the top of the stairs leading from outside. “Hey, we’re coming through!”

The first thing that Xander noticed about the inside of the bus was that most of the bench seats had been removed, and the resulting increase in space had been subdivided by “walls” made of cardboard, plywood, and sometimes even a strung clothesline with a blanket thrown over it. The left side of the bus, right up against the sidewall, was clear, allowing people to walk all the way through to the emergency door at the back. The right side was filled with people’s living spaces. As they were on their way deeper into the bus, a woman stepped into the passageway. She jerked to an abrupt stop when she saw Louise and Xander. 

“Oh, hi there, Debby. Debby, this is Alex. Alex, this is Debby. She’s our neighbor.” Louise had a cautious look on her face, letting Xander know that while Louise was on speaking terms with the new woman, they weren’t the closest of friends. “You going out?”

Xander found himself on the far side of mortified. _Do not stare. Do not stare. Whatever you do don’t stare at her._ For one thing, Debby’s skin was so translucent it was almost transparent. Her muscles and bones were visible beneath what looked like a clear layer of gelatin. For another, she was dressed only in a white thong and what looked like a matching set of ballet slippers. Her lips, aureoles and nipples were silver smudges barely less see-through than her skin. Even the hair on her head, her nails, and her eyelashes were translucent. She was fascinating to look at, and Xander had no idea where to put his eyes without it seeming like he was staring.

“Yeah, Dave paid back the ten bucks he owed me and I need a pack of smokes.” The translucent women switched her attention to Xander, who smiled and nodded and tried to keep his eyes on Debby’s eyes. “How’re you doing? Your name is Alex?”

“Yeah. Alex Harris. Nice to meet you Debby.” Without thinking about it, Xander gave Debby the classic male up-and-down. When his eyes once rose to Debby’s face, she was clearly smirking.

“Uh-huh. Nice to meet you, too.” She was still smirking. “You need anything, Louise?”

“Nah, I’m good. C’mon, Alex.” Louise tugged on his arm as Debby passed by. “Our room’s right here.”

Their 'room' turned out to be a cleared-out space six feet long by perhaps four feet wide, closed in on one side by a piece of dirty plywood and on the other by a curtain of visqueen tacked up to a flattened cardboard box. The door-slash-fourth wall of the “room” was a wool blanket hung on a clothesline. The only furnishings were a thick foam mat piled high with blankets, a set of ad-hoc shelves made from three stacked milk crates upon which sat a cracked dinner plate that had a half-melted candle stuck to it, two more milk crates that might have served as stools, a small, red Coleman cooler, and a battered suitcase.

Louise was giving Xander careful, hesitant glances, waiting for a reaction. She was clearly afraid of what Xander might be thinking.

“Hey, thanks for letting me stay with you for a while. This is great. Beats living out on the street, right?”

“It really isn’t all that bad. I mean, there’s a gas station two blocks away that doesn’t mind if you use their lady's room to clean yourself up some. And the nuns will let you shower every night if you need to. And there’s a coin laundry down the road that’s not too expensive if you can keep yourself in quarters. We’ve got a share-alike thing going for food, so everybody puts a what they can into the kitty; Sally, that’s Jan’s mom – you remember Jan, she was the girl with the – “Louise motioned at her mouth. She returned Xander’s nod. “Yeah, her. Anyway, Sally usually makes grocery runs every two weeks and gets some basics. You know, canned soup or chili or a couple of boxes of crackers. Stuff that doesn’t go bad too often.” She sat there quiet for a moment, still trying to gauge Xander’s reaction. It confused Xander a bit and he began to wonder why his reaction would be so important to the girl. Abruptly, Louise added, “Oh! And – and – back when he lived here for a while this guy named Bam-Bam boosted a couple of chemical toilets from a construction site so we have sort of a men’s room and a lady’s room just a short way away. Aaron organizes volunteers to dump them into the sewer when they fill up every week.”

“No, hey, it’s okay, Louise. This is great! No problems at all!” Xander put his backpack down and sat on one of the milk crates. _For someone with no place to go and your choice is this or sleep out in the open, this place is the Ritz-Carlton._ Like he said, there were no problems at all.

**XxxxxxX**

Xander should have known better than to jinx himself. There weren’t any problems the rest of the day. Louise had shown him around the tiny community, introducing himself to several people, and then the pair had gone to dinner and church at the Convent. All in all, it had been a quiet day.

But that had been yesterday.

“Louise! Hey, Louise! You in here?”

Xander’s eyes shot open. It took him a moment to shake the last remnants of sleep from his mind and remember where he was: the abandoned school bus, in Louise’s alcove. On the foam pad and under the pile of blankets that served Louise as a bed. The slight feeling of heat and the weight on his side – Xander looked down and saw one of Louise’s hands grasped in his own, held close against his own chest. She’d snuggled up to him in the night while they slept, and had thrown an arm around him. If they hadn’t been sleeping fully dressed, having one of Louise’s hands clutched between Xander’s breasts would be much more erotic than it was.

Xander was still unsure about their relationship. Louise had referred to him as her girlfriend and Xander had never corrected her, but they’d done little more than hang out with each other for a week. Xander liked Louise well enough, but he hadn’t formally decided on what to do about it. They'd held hands and snuggled and hugged, but they hadn’t kissed yet. But it was nice, and while Xander felt like it was only a matter of time before the kissing started, he wasn't sure he'd describe Louise as his girlfriend just yet.

“Louise! Girl, there’s trouble –” Aaron’s voice. The albino’s head suddenly thrust under the blanket that made their sleeping space’s inner wall. “Louise, you need – oh, Alex. Sorry, but it’s a kind of emergency thing. Hey, Louise, you awake?”

The girl groaned behind Xander. “I am now. What’s going on?” She pulled her hand out of Xander’s as she rolled on to her back; she took the time to stroke the side of Xander’s face while she did it. Apparently, Louise had no trouble deciding on their status as a couple.

“Marvin just pulled up with three cars of guys. There’s like, nine of them, and they got their guns out.”

“Oh fuck! Alex, c’mon, we got to hide.” Xander looked at the girl and could tell she was terrified. “We don’t want them to hurt people. We got to get away.” Louise was beginning to sound like she was going into a panic attack. “Crap. Crap. Crap. Fuck! I didn't think he'd show up, y'know? At least not so soon!” She scrambled to her knees and began fumbling around for her shoes and socks.

Xander sat up, sighing. He absently rubbed at one side of his face while he shook his head. He looked at Louise, then up at Aaron, then back at Louise. He was coming to the slow realization of how badly the pimp had kept the girls who were working for him in terror of him, and it was causing a slow burn in him, somewhere deep down. Xander, like most abused kids who had somehow grown up and avoided becoming abusive themselves, had a temper that was slow to start, but would go from irritated to enraged in a heartbeat. And this was the beginning of a decent case of completely pissed-off.

Without thinking about it, Xander abruptly concluded regarding his relationship with Louise. He grabbed one of her hands, carefully, and gently rubbed its back with his thumb. “Louise.” She kept babbling. “Louise.” He was firmer this time. “Louise, look at me.” Firmer still. She stopped babbling and looked at Xander, confusion and fear competing in her eyes. “You don’t have to worry about Marvin. Nobody here has to worry about Marvin.” He kissed the back of her hand, then stood up, then motioned to Aaron to lead the way.

He could hear Louise’s plaintive, “Alex, please be careful” as he stepped out of the bus.

**XxxxxxX**

Marvin and his eight friends were only just beginning to step across the partially collapsed chain-link fence that marked the edge of the community’s unofficial border when Aaron and Xander got there. Only Marvin had a gun out, a dirty-gray automatic of some kind that Xander didn’t recognize. His knowledge of guns was limited to the .38 his dad had owned, the Army 9mm that he’d seen in countless war films, and Harry Callahan’s Smith & Wesson Model 29 .44 Magnum revolver. In the end, of course, the gun wasn’t going to matter for shit unless something went pear-shaped and innocent people got shot.

And Xander had already decided to not let any innocent people get shot this morning.

As the two of them approached the gang of thugs, Aaron stepped forward, trying to calm the situation down. “Marvin, hey, what’re you doing here, man? And what’s with the gun? Nobody wants any trouble, man, we got kids here, you know? So how about we all stay cool and you put the gun away?”

But Marvin had already spotted Xander, and with blood in his eye had already dismissed Aaron as irrelevant. “Naw, fuck that!” He pointed to Xander. “I gonna talk to that bitch right there and then she gonna learn a lesson she ain’t gonna forget. Get the fuck out of my way, white bread.” The pimp brought his pistol around, swiping it at Aaron’s head, but Aaron managed to skip back and out of the way.

Marvin’s eyes never lost contact with Xander’s. “Yo, you big-tittied cunt – you gonna fucking learn that nobody disrespects me on my own street, 'specially not in front of my boys. And you took something that fucking belongs to me. You get that scrawny-ass ho out here right fucking now and I might leave you one of you fucking eyes.” Xander didn’t move. Marvin pointed the pistol at Xander’s head. “I’m gonna count to five and I swear to fucking god if you’re still standing there, I’ll – “

It was as far as he got. Xander rushed forward, nowhere near as quickly as he could have, and grabbed Marvin’s hand, the one with the gun in it. Xander’s fist clenched just enough to squeeze the pimp’s fingers against the metal of the pistol as he pulled the other man’s hand up. The muzzle of the man’s gun was now firmly pressed against Xander’s forehead, right between the eyes. “Go ahead, big man. Pull the trigger. See how that works for you. But I should warn you, Marvin, you do and you’re going to be in a lot more pain than you’ve ever known.”

“What the fuck? Are you fucking crazy?” Marvin tugged fruitlessly against Xander’s hand, trying to free himself.

Xander ignored Marvin to turn toward one of Marvin’s thugs, who was fumbling under his coat. “Dude, if that gun sees daylight, I’m going to make you eat it.” He turned back to Marvin and once again pressed his head up against the muzzle of pistol. “Take your best shot. You got me dead to rights.”

“Bitch! Let me go!” Marvin continued to jerk against Xander’s hold.

Nothing else happened. Eventually, Xander got tired of it and leaned back. Marvin's hand dropped from out of line with Xander's forehead. “Yeah, that’s what I –” Xander was going to finish the sentence with “that’s what I thought”, but was interrupted when Marvin’s gun went off in his face. Xander’s eyes widened in surprise as he felt the bullet strike the back of his throat and then fall harmlessly onto his tongue. It tasted like copper and cordite, and just might have been the most disgusting taste Xander had ever experienced, including that time the ichor from the gnarishak demon splashed on his face.

Xander could feel Marvin start to shake, no doubt in fear. He had, after all, just shot Xander at close range. Xander glared at him, then spat the bullet out of his mouth and into the hand that wasn’t busy holding Marvin’s hand in place. He held the bullet in between thumb and index finger when he showed it to the pimp. “Okay, so now you know. Your gun don't mean shit. So Marvin, its time you learned _your_ lesson.” With that he pulled the gun out of the pimp’s hand so quickly and so forcefully that Marvin’s index finger, still hooked into the trigger guard, was pulled completely off with it. Marvin screamed and clutched his damaged hand – now missing a finger – to his chest. Marvin’s goons reacted, and none of them effectively. Half of them just took off running. Xander let them go. He now only had four to deal with, including crippled Marvin.

The man who’d been trying to grab his own gun got it out and brought it up into a firing position, but he was nowhere near fast enough. “I warned you.” Xander poked the man in the shoulder, just at where the arm met the man’s chest, and his finger sank into the man’s flesh up to the second knuckle. The gun dropped out of the man’s hand as he shrieked in pain. A quick thump to the forehead and the mook was unconscious. Xander turned to the other three guys, none of whom were moving. As he shook the blood from his finger, he asked, almost casually, “Oh, are you guys still here?” They ran.

Marvin was still on his knees. He’d picked up his pistol from where Xander dropped it and was fumbling with it, trying to make it work through the pain and with the wrong hand. Xander took it from him, much more gently this time, and crumbled it up into a ball.

“No more guns, Marvin.” He grabbed the pimp around the throat with one hand and dragged him bodily to where the unconscious goon was laying. With his free hand, Xander grabbed the unconscious gunman by the heel of one foot. Both Marvin and his goon were dragged back to Marvin’s car. With casual ease, Xander popped the trunk open and dropped the goon into it. Marvin, he still held. Xander brought Marvin’s face close to his own. It was clear that oxygen was about to become an issue for the pimp, but it wasn’t like Xander cared a whole hell of a lot.

“Marvin. Marvin, pay attention.” The man’s eyes bugged out at Xander, but they never wavered from Xander’s face. “This is the second time, Marvin. You come by again and I’m going to feed your body to the sharks. I’m talking about those huge sharks off the coast of South Africa, the ones Discovery Channel does week-long documentaries about. I’m not playing here, Marvin.” Marvin grabbed Xander’s arm, trying desperately to dislodge Xander’s hand from around his neck, but it wasn’t working. “Do you know how you can tell I’m serious, Marvin? Because I broke your fingers telling you this, Marvin?” And then Xander did just that. He grabbed Marvin’s flailing hand and exerted enough pressure to break each of the pimp’s fingers. Marvin whimpered. He could breathe easily enough to stay conscious, but not enough to scream, and the pain made it a near thing anyway.

“Are we clear, Marvin? If I see you again, I’m dropping you into the middle of the fucking Indian Ocean where the sharks can get you. Nod if you understand me, Marvin.”

Marvin nodded, desperately.

“Good. Now go to sleep.” Xander smashed Marvin’s head into the roof of the car hard enough to render the pimp unconscious, then dropped him, too, into the trunk of the car. He shut the lid on the two street thugs, then welded it closed with a quick application of heat vision.

The whole thing took maybe a minute. Aaron was standing there with his mouth open, unsure what to say. “Hey, Aaron, look what I found!” Xander said. He pointed toward the other two cars. “Someone went and left two perfectly functional cars out on the street! Even left the keys in them. Know anybody who needs to have a roof over their head? The backseat of that one looks pretty huge!” Xander dusted his hands off and smiled at the man. “I know this is going to be a weird question, but do you know where I can get some white paint?”

**XxxxxxX**

“You are simply not going to believe this, boss. It’s downright ugly in here.” SHIELD Agent David Bowe held the ultraviolet lamp at the correct angle, but before he turned it on, he looked back to his supervisor. “You ready?”

Supervisory Special Agent Newman merely nodded. He thought he knew what to expect, but when the ultraviolet light touched the mattress, he was shocked. There was residue everywhere. Everywhere. “Wait – is this the –?”

“If asked for my professional opinion, George, I’d have to say there was a lot of sex happening on this mattress. Lots and lots of sex. See this?” He pointed to a large, patchy, interconnected stain. What you have here is dried blood mixed with dried semen and I’m guessing dried vaginal fluids.” He pointed to a different spot. “Here’s some more blood mixed with semen. Semen on top of semen here. Blood there. More semen here.” His arm moved as he pointed to various spots. “I think it would be easier for us to just ship the entire mattress to the lab than take specific samples.”

Newman just stared at it, aghast. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, holy shit is right. This was the girl’s mattress, right?” Newman nodded, and Bowe continued speaking. “Now, we’ll have to wait for DNA to get back before we know for sure, but I’d say that either the young Miss Starr was really entertaining her boyfriend in here pretty much all the time, or else daddy dearest was sampling the cookies, if you know what I mean.”

Newman dragged a hand across his face. This was getting ugly. “How’d you find it?”

“What are you talking about, find it?” Bowe shrugged. “I just stripped the sheet of the mattress, sprayed it down with Luminol and Fluorescein, pointed the light, and bam, there it was. Whoever’s been keeping the room clean didn’t even bother turning the mattress over.”

Newman stared at the mattress again. Without the black light, it looked like any other mattress. “How long do you think…?”

Bow shook his head. “No clue. According to the tag, the mattress is about ten years old. This much spatter, this deep? Couple a’ years, maybe? Three or four at least. How old did you say this girl was?”

“She was fifteen when she disappeared. She’d be seventeen now. And I don’t think she had a boyfriend for that whole time. Damn.”

“Yeah. That's what I'm saying.” Bowe blew a long breath through his front teeth. “Damn, that sucks. If we go with it being the dad, and she was fifteen the last time a fresh sample was laid down, he had to have started in on her when she was eleven at the earliest. Latest would be when she was fourteen.” Both men went quiet for a long time. “Boss,” Bowe asked finally. “What’s the statute of limitation on sexual assault on a minor?”

Newman shrugged. “In Ohio? I don’t remember. I think there’s still time to charge this scumbag if the DNA comes back. I remember that the civil limit is a lot longer.”

Bowe stood and stretched his back. “Got to love laws which make it easier to sue somebody than arrest them. I remember this one case back when I was working in Chicago, there was this -- “But David Bowe’s story was interrupted. Agent Abdul Raschid, one of the chemical trace techs working on the cars came running into the room, gasping for air and obviously not used to the exercise.

“Boss!” The man leaned over to rest his arms on his knees and be sucked in air. “Boss!”

“Calm down, Abdul. Catch your breath and tell me what’s going on. Slow down.”

Raschid nodded, still leaned over. “Right, boss. Right. Kuni’s – Kuni’s calling for you. He – damn, I need exercise. He said he’s got a body, out behind the – the garage.”

**XxxxxxX**

They’d all come out of the precinct headquarters when they heard the loud crash. Almost a minute later and none of them had a real clue as to what they were seeing. The uniforms and various detectives were all standing around scratching their heads, hesitant to approach the object. It wasn’t that they couldn’t recognize what the object started out to be… it’s just that the object no longer was one of those and had become whatever it was now. What it started out as was the back half of a car. The axle was missing, as was the back door and the back seat. Someone had welded what looked like the hood of a car over the hole left by the seat. The metal of the car body was torn in places and crimpled together in other places, but it was still recognizable as the back end of a car. Even had the license plate still attached. But there had been some major modification, starting with the fact that it wasn’t attached to the front end.

“What’s this happy horse shit?” Lieutenant Togorian stepped out of the precinct and took a moment to google just like the rest of the cops. The precinct’s captain couldn’t be bothered to come down himself, so he sent the nearest lieutenant he could find, and that had been the commander of his vice division.

“Look for yourself, Lou,” one of the uniforms answered her. “It’s a car. Sort of.”

“Really Benneli? A sort of car? With observational skills like that you’ll be a detective in no time.” Lieutenant Togorian pushed through the assembled officers and got closer to get a better look. “Yep, that’s sort of a car.” She walked around the wreck, taking in the missing back seat, and the missing doors, and the fact that the cut that had separated the car’s halves looked ragged and uneven. She continued her circle until she found the trunk lid. Across it, in large white letters made of what looked like paint, were the words “CAUTION! DO NOT SHAKE! LIVE ASSHOLES INSIDE!” The words were surrounded by many holes in the trunk lid that made it look like someone had taken after it with a shotgun.

“Live assholes inside.” She thought about that for a moment, before shouting. “Somebody help me!” The lieutenant searched the trunk seam for some sort of release catch, but there wasn’t any. It took her a moment, but eventually she concentrated enough to look at the trunk seams. They’d been welded shut. “Somebody get on the horn to the Fire Department, tell ‘em we’ve got people trapped in a vehicle trunk. Bring the jaws-of-life. Now, people!” She carefully put an eye to one of the holes. It was a through-and-through, but there couldn’t be a lot of air getting in there.

Togorian stepped back and forced herself to calm down. _Okay, half a car, and there were apparently people inside who needed police attention. What that did mean?_ She turned back to the precinct. “Benneli, when the fire department gets here, come get me. I’m going to brief the captain.” She ran inside, but slowed as she realized that while the situation of whomever was in the trunk of that car, there was no reason for her to run, because running wouldn’t get them out any faster. She took the elevator rather than climbing the stairs. In her head, she’d was already wondering what the next step was. This felt like something those damned super-powered kids would do. The people in the trunk would turn out to be a wife beater, or a jewelry store perp, or maybe a bank robber. The car would be one of the bad guy’s getaway vehicles. And no doubt the perps would be seriously injured. Probably one of them had gone off and beaten them to within an inch of their lives.

That might work in New York City, but this was Los Angeles where officially such activities were frowned upon. Someone needed to tell those kids to cut it out. And besides, she needed more information if she was going to explain this to her boss. So rather than go to him directly, she went to her desk and dug around for the cell phone number that Sister Grimm kid had given her just in case. It would take strength to do that to a car. Not to mention the toughness to survive a hypothetical counter-attack on behalf of the criminals. Grimm had young girl with her who Togorian had once seen lift a semi’s tractor-trailer. She was just a kid, barely even a teenager, and that message left outside was something a kid would do.

She had no idea where a bunch of runaway kids with superpowers would hide, but maybe she could get in touch with them.

**XxxxxxX**

“Kuni. Raschid said you found a body?”

“Take a look, George.” Agent Kuni Hernandez was writing something down in his notebook, and George Newman had long ago learned that when he was recording the facts of a scene, you didn’t interrupt him too often or too badly. George just nodded, sure that Kuni would never notice, and stepped past the man.

The body was lying in a shallow hole, no more than two or three feet deep and maybe four feet long. Just wide enough to hold it. The corpse had almost been reduced to bones, but he could see some areas where what flesh remained was little more than leather-like strips. The body was dressed in the remains of a fuzzy pink sweater and a pair of jeans. A pair of running shoes were on its feet.

“Male or female?”

Kuni Hernandez looked up from his writing with a frown. “Not conclusive, but I think female. Maybe five foot seven. No other details. I’m waiting for the coroner to even begin to guess about a COD.”

“Great. So maybe our missing person isn’t missing anymore.” He shook his head. So now it looked like the missing girl, Karen Starr, was raped and murdered, maybe at the hands of her own father.

Sometimes, George Newman thought to himself, I really despise people.

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from an episode of the soap opera General Hospital. Luke Spencer and Robert Scorpio were attempting to stop some world-threatening conspiracy and so Scorpio went to a friend to see if he’d help them in their quest to bring down the bad guy. After the meeting, when Scorpio got Luke on the phone, Luke asked how the meeting went, and in response, Scorpio said, “Dark Side of the Moon. Side 2, Song 2” and hung up the phone. Luke immediately knew exactly what Scorpio meant: the friend wasn’t going to help, and Luke and Scorpio were on their own.
> 
> The title of the second song on Side 2 of the Pink Floyd album Dark Side of the Moon is, of course, “Us vs. Them.”


	12. Five Conversations and Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“Bottom line is, even if you see ‘em coming, you’re not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So, what are we? Helpless? Puppets? No. The big moments are gonna come. You can’t help that. It’s what you do afterward that counts. That’s when you find out who you really are.” – **Whistler** (Max Perlich), from the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode “Becoming, Part One”_

**XxxxxxX**

This was stupid.

Here she was, a grown woman, a police detective no less, standing on a rooftop waiting for a superhero to arrive. Like she was Inspector Bumstead from the _Achilles_ comic book, meeting the Gladiator of Justice on a rooftop in the middle of the night to discuss a case. Not that she would ever admit having read the _Achilles_ comic books. It was true that Achilles had been one of the reasons she became a cop. Unlike the other members of the Guardians, he was just a guy. No powers. Just training and effort. The idea of him was cool. Self-trained athlete using nothing but his wits.

Of course, being a billionaire probably helped with the gear. Just saying.

But still, she felt ridiculous. Up here, on a rooftop, 2:30 in the morning. Overcast, waiting for some teenage superhero to show up, and of course, when she does it’ll probably scare –

“Detective Togorian?”

Togorian didn’t quite drop her cup of coffee, and didn’t quite yell like a little girl, but it was a close thing. The voice had come from behind her. Togorian whirled in place, and there they were. They weren’t there just a second ago, but there they were now. God, she hated superheroes. There were three of them: the girl with the staff who’d given Togorian the cell phone number in the first place, the tall blonde kid with the gizmos, and the little girl with the hats. Her memory failed her on their names for a moment, so she faked it with audacity.

“God, don’t do that! Almost give me a heart attack!”

The girl with the staff – Togorian’s brain finally came up with the name 'Sister Grimm' – smiled kindly. “Sorry about that. I didn’t think we’d be coming in behind you when we teleported up here. What’s the emergency?”

“We, uh, had an incident earlier today. A pimp and pusher named Marvin Stiggle and a couple of his boys got themselves roughed up.”

The blonde guy and the kid – Togorian still couldn’t remember what they called themselves, so she labeled them 'Hat Girl' and 'Glove Boy' in her head – looked at each other and shrugged, then turned to their obvious leader. “And how does that involve us, Detective?”

“Yeah, getting to that. Whoever roughed up Marvin and his guys really roughed them up. Marvin’s missing a finger now, and the doctor said that it looked like it was torn off, not cut off. Know how strong you’d have to be to tear someone’s finger off?” She looked right at Hat Girl. She’d seen this girl, this not-even-a-teenager-yet girl, lift a semi-truck over her head. Pulling a guy’s finger off would have been child’s play. “They were then shoved into the trunk of a Dodge Charger, the trunk was sealed somehow, and the Charger was torn in two. The trunk half was dropped in front of the precinct house.”

Sister Grimm turned to look at Hat Girl, who shook her head. “Waddn’t me, Nic. I was with Karoline all day at the pool, remember?”

Grimm turned back to the Detective. “Wasn’t her. She was at the pool with her friends all day yesterday.” Just like that. She started to turn away.

“Hey! Don’t just walk off like that. I got someone with superhuman strength beating up pimps. Normally I wouldn’t care, but this guy’s in rough shape. Not only did finger get ripped off, but he and his guys were dropped to the ground from like four stories up. He could have died. I don’t need any super-strong murderers in my town, and say what you like,” Togorian pointed at Hat Girl. “She is the only one of you guys in town who’s super-strong.”

Grimm's face was amusing. It had that classic ‘What are you, a dumbass?’ look that made Togorian feel sheepish. “So, what, we’re the only superheroes in town, so anyone roughing up a criminal has to be one of us? Let me tell you, Detective, we might be the only super _heroes_ in town, but we’re hardly the only super _humans_. Bruiser – “ _Bruiser. That was Hat Girl’s name._ “-- says it wasn’t her, so it wasn’t her. Now, if you don’t mind, we’re going.”

They couldn’t just leave like this. She still had questions. “Wait!” Togorian called. “What if I need help bringing this person in? The person who really messed this pimp up?”

The blonde guy, Glove Boy, smiled at her. “Then give us another call.” And then the three just faded from sight.

_Great. That had gone nowhere._ Togorian sighed, wondering what do to next. _If it wasn’t this Hat Girl – Bruiser – whatever her name was, then who was it?_ She had no idea. She went home disappointed, hoping something would come up. The next morning, she woke up to word that Marvin Stiggle had regained consciousness while she was having her late-night conference with the superheroes.

**XxxxxxX**

Togorian stepped out of the elevator and turned when she saw Mike Ramiwicz, her partner, waving her over from down the hall. As she approached, she could tell he was smirking.

“Morning, Inspector Bumstead! How’s Achilles doing this morning?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, Mike. Just laugh it up. Next time we need information from a cape, you’re the one waiting on the roof all night.”

He continued to chuckle, but accepted her point. “Learn anything from them?”

“Just that they didn’t do it, of course. He say anything yet?’ She nodded toward the room that held Marvin Stiggle. A uniform stood outside the door, looking bored as he watched the hospital traffic.

“Not yet. He’s in talking to his attorney. Lawyer was here before I was.” Ramiwicz shrugged.

They waited. After ten or fifteen minutes, the lawyer came out and approached them. “Good morning. I’m Will Cameron, Mr. Stiggle’s attorney. Am I to understand he’s not actually being charged with anything?”

Togorian and Ramiwicz exchanged a glance. “Well, I’m not going to deny that he’s under investigation, but Marvin has no active warrants that I am aware of.” Togorian began. “We’re treating him as a victim of an aggravated assault, at least for now.”

“Okay, good. That’s good. Let’s go in and you can take a statement from my client.” They followed the lawyer into Marvin’s room, nodding at the cop as they past. “Marvin, the police are here to take your statement, and maybe get a description of who did this to you. Okay?”

Marvin was a bruise from his forehead to his navel. He seemed covered in monitors and IV tubes and gauze. His head was bundled from what she knew was a fractured skull that the hospital had stapled together; she’d never heard of a thing, but apparently, you could staple a skull back together. His hand, where his finger had been torn off, was wrapped the thickest. Only one of Marvin’s eyes was open, the other was swollen shut.

“Hey, Marvin. Nice to talk to you again,” Togorian gave Marvin her best professional smile. She’d dealt with this jack-hole before, and having to be polite because this time he was a victim and not a perp was not something she could do instinctually. He was a scumbag, and she wanted to treat him like a scumbag. But she couldn’t, not with his lawyer present. “You want to tell me what happened to you?”

Marvin snorted. “Sure.” His words were a bit mushy. Apparently three of his teeth had been knocked out while he’d rolled around in the trunk of the car. “Bitch beat the shit outta me.”

“Bitch beat the shit out of you. Okay. Let’s work with that.” She pulled a chair up next to his bed. “Can you tell us what you were doing when the bitch beat the shit out of you?” Togorian got her notepad out and a pencil. She noted that Ramiwicz had done the same.

“I didn’t do nothin’ to that bitch. She just went crazy.”

Ramiwicz chuckled, ducking his chin down against his chest. He shook his head, then rubbed a hand across his chin. “You didn’t do anything. Man, how many times have we heard that from people with criminal records? My partner here didn’t ask you if you did anything to her, Marvin. Just what was going on? What were you doing when this woman assaulted you?”

“I, uh, I was going to talk to this girl I know, Tiffany –”

“Yeah, I know Tiffany. Talked to her on some of the rousts.” Togorian interrupted. “Hey, Marvin. You're Tiffany's pimp. You know Tiffany’s last name?”

Marvin's attorney started to object, but Marvin shrugged. “She calls herself Tiffany Diamond, but I don’t know if that’s her real name. Anyway, I went down to see her about some money she owed me. See if she was going to pay me back.”

Togorian huffed. “Look, Marvin, we’re not here to bust you, but we’ve both seen your jacket, and we both know who and what you are. You’re a pimp and she’s one of your whores. I’ve rousted her enough to know she works for you. So how about you stop bullshitting us and just tell us what happened, okay?”

Marvin looked to his attorney, who shrugged and nodded. “Okay,” the man began again. “If you say so. Yeah, okay, she didn’t work the last couple days or so. When she don’t work, I don’t get paid. I went to talk to her about it day before yesterday.”

“Wait.” Togorian held up a hand. “You went to talk to her the day _before_ yesterday? Not yesterday when you were assaulted, but the day before?”

“Yeah. Found her over near the pawn shop on Queen Street with one of her friends. Started talking to her about her not living up to her job and how she owed me money. And her friend grabs Jamal and tosses him all the way across the road, then hits my little brother Ray-Ray in the head hard enough to knock his ass out. Then she grab me around the throat and tells me Tiffany’s working for her now and that if I know what’s good for me I’ll get out the neighborhood.”

The detectives exchanged glances. They weren’t sure how much of this was bullshit, but they both recognized it would cause problems. Even the hint of someone new moving in on Marvin’s territory would be problematic. Marvin worked for Boz Rollins, and Boz was thick with the Crips. Someone moving in on Crips territory could start a war.

“What did this friend of Tiffany’s look like?”

“Little bit taller than I am. More muscles than I like on a bitch. Like she’s one of them wacked-out weightlifter chicks you see out at the beach. Blonde, hair past her shoulder. Blue eyes.” Marvin grinned. “And the biggest tits I’ve ever seen that wasn’t in a porn movie. Even bigger than yours.” He gestured toward Togorian’s chest, causing the detective to shift uncomfortably. She unconsciously pulled her suit jacket a little more closed than it normally hung. But then it hit her. The girl she sent to the Convent. Tall, blonde, in terrific shape, huge tits. Five hundred bucks and no shoes. And Marvin was saying _that girl_ was trying to move in on his territory? She suddenly suspected that Marvin’s tale was more than a little bullshit.

Ramiwicz rescued her. “So you went to apply pressure to one of your girls, and your girl had found herself a bodyguard? I bet that didn’t sit well.”

“Are you fuckin' wit me? Sit well? Shit – I can’t let some skank ass bitch rough up my boys. We went down to that camp that Tiffany stay at when she not at the Convent. You know that freak show under the Interstate? I brought more boys with me, figure we’d all get business done.”

“Tiffany lives with the homeless folks under the Interstate? That’s the camp with the low-grade mutants?” Togorian asked. She knew that site, as well as a couple of other sites where the homeless gathered for mutual protection. Generally, the cops left them alone until they were ordered to clean them out. They weren't hurting anybody, and besides, there were kids there. “You know it?” she asked Ramiwicz, who nodded.

“Been down there once or twice during a roust. Just a bunch of folks trying to get by. Never gave me any trouble.”

“Yeah. That the camp you’re talking about, Marvin?”

“Yeah, them.” Marvin tried to shift in his bed, but the bandages on his arm kept him from using it effectively. “The freakshow. That’s where that bitch Tiffany stay when she ain’t with the nuns. I figured she be there with her new friend, and she was.”

“Is this Tiffany a mutant?”

“Barely.” Marvin’s laugh turned into a cough. When he could speak again, he said, “Barely. She got this trick where she can change her hair color to whatever she wants. Some big superpower, right? Anyway, I went down there and there was this guy down there, Aaron something. White guy. Real white.”

“Yeah, I’ve talked to Aaron before. He tries to keep his nose clean.” Ramiwicz said. “White guy.” Togorian’s partner snorted and shook his head. “He’s a Mexican-American, as far as I know, but he’s an albino.” He shook his head again. “White guy. Right.”

“Anyway,” Togorian said, trying to drown out Ramiwicz’s snickers. “You went to this mutant camp under the Interstate because Tiffany’s new friend disrespected you in front of your boys and kept you from getting paid. I’m betting that Boz Rollins didn’t like you coming up short for the week.” Marvin glared at her at the mention of Boz, but she didn’t even slow down. “So, what happened when you went down there?”

“That white-bread Aaron try an' get me to back off, but I ignored him. That when that bitch came out of nowhere. She was crazy. I shit you not. She put the barrel of my nine right up against her forehead and dared me to shoot her. Said I wouldn’t like what happen next.”

“So, you think Tiffany’s new friend is a mutant, too?”

Marvin just nodded. “Yeah, and she ain’t no joke, either. I watched her tear the back seats out of the car with her bare hands before she sealed the trunk up. Tore the car in two, too. And I shot her. Right in the face. She caught the bullet with her teeth or some shit and showed it to me.”

That admission caused the cops to meet each other’s eyes. “You’re admitting you shot her?”

“Fuck yeah! For all the good it did me! You got shit between your fucking ears, cop?” Behind the detectives, Marvin’s lawyer winced, but it was too late now. “She spit the fucking bullet out onto her hand! Then she tossed me and my boys around like we were nothing.” The pimp held his injured hand up. “This happened when she grabbed my gun! My finger was still on the trigger, for fuck’s sake, and my finger just went with it when she grabbed it.”

“Okay, so she took your gun after you shot her in the face. Then what did she do?” Ramiwicz couldn’t seem to help the tinge of incredulity that colored his voice.

“She dropped me and Perry in the trunk of my car, ripped it in two, then sealed us in. Next thing I know, I’m waking up in here with both my legs broke, and the back of my head stapled together. Only reason I’m talkin’ to you is because Perry broke my fall. He even worse off than I am.”

“Ripped your car apart with her bare hands. Right. Superhumanly strong, and she spit your bullet out. Wonderful. Did you happen to catch this girl’s name?”

“Nah, I was too busy bleeding from where she ripped my fucking finger off.”

“All right, Marvin. You get better, now.” Togorian gave Ramiwicz the nod as she stood. “If we have any more questions, we’ll call you.”

“Call me, actually.” Togorian had honestly forgotten that the lawyer was there until the man spoke up. The attorney handed both detectives a card. “And as always keep in mind that he’s only willing to testify to put his attacker in jail. He won’t be answering questions about anything else.”

“We understand, counselor. This isn’t our first rodeo.” She led her partner into the hallway then toward the elevator. “Mike, how much of that crap do you buy?”

Ramiwicz was quiet until the elevator doors had closed. “What I think is that this asshole tried to beat up our girl Tiffany, but Tiffany found someone who could defend her. If he really shot this new girl, then she could possibly argue self-defense.”

“It isn’t self-defense if she knew she couldn’t have been hurt by the bullets.”

“Necessary violence to protect bystanders, then.” Ramiwicz shrugged. “Either way, even if we arrest her and the DA tries her, once her defense attorney lets a jury know she beat up a pimp and a drug pusher, the trial is over and she walks. I think no matter which way this plays, what we’re looking at is some homeless mutant girl who used her powers to stand up to a scumbag who we know is willing to mess up people badly when they cross him.” He looked over at her. “And I am not looking forward to trying to arrest a person who can tear a car in two with their bare hands.”

“Yeah.” Togorian leaned against the back wall of the elevator. “Yeah. Be hard to keep her arrested if she decided she didn’t want to be arrested.”

**XxxxxxX**

“Tony! This is a surprise! I didn’t think you were coming in for another week or so.” Tony Stark saw Janet’s face light up when she saw one of her oldest friends in the world sitting at the conference table, and it made him feel a little bit better about everything. “How are you doing?”

“Hey guys, come on in. Have a seat.” Stark watched from his wheelchair as the Avengers entered the conference room. They hadn’t known he was coming, and this was the first time they’d seen him in person since he was released from the hospital. To most of the Avengers, Stark’s appearance was a shock and a surprise. His eyes were still black, his face was still covered in bruises, and he still had tape on his nose. His left arm and left leg were still in casts, and the leg itself was extended straight out in front of him like it was a knight’s lance.

“Despite appearances, I’m actually doing pretty well. The wonders of modern medicine.” His eyes traveled over the Avengers until coming back to rest on the Wasp’s face. Spider-Man, Wonder Man, Black Widow, Yellowjacket, and Ares. No sign of Sentry. He’d been petulantly hiding in his fortress since his encounter with the Starr girl and hadn’t been talking to anyone lately. And Carole Danvers was still in the hospital. Even with her advanced healing, she was going to carry some scars from now on. And her hair; she’d cut off her glorious head of hair so it would grow in evenly.

Stark could see that everyone was surprised he was here. Even the clothing he was wearing were also a bit of a shock. When he wasn’t in his armor, Stark was invariably in a tailored suit, or otherwise looked like he’d spent thousands of dollars on his tailor-made designer outfit. Today, he was dressed in a pair of cut-off jeans and a gaudy Hawaiian shirt that he hadn’t buttoned closed. A wife-beater under the Hawaiian shirt and a single white athletic sock on his unbroken foot completed the ensemble. He looked more like Al Bundy than he did Tony Stark. But given the casts, this was just easier.

“Anyway, I’m not going to be here all day, I just wanted to drop by and let you all know. At Simon’s request,” he nodded toward Wonder Man, “I had a SHIELD investigatory team check into Karen Starr.” He didn’t look up from the file he held, but heard several sharp inhalations from his team. “I’ve got the results of their investigation here, and, um, it’s a bit of a – “he interrupted himself, truly trying to figure out how to even start with this. Finally, he looked up and met the eyes of each other the other Avengers. “It’s ghastly. Really horrible.”

Stark pushed a button on the small remote and the monitor screen lit up. On it was a mug shot of a teenage girl, the same teenage girl who had left the entire team in the dust just a few weeks ago. “Karen Starr. Age 15. Juvenile record for vandalism and pot possession. Considered a trouble-maker by her teachers and her principle, but still carried a 3.5 GPA. Her computer teacher, a Ms. Rothstein, one of the few teachers she had who didn’t think she was a waste of time, said the girl had an intuitive grasp of programming languages and that she was encouraging Miss Starr to enter the field. Said she had potential to be a software engineer on the same level as Steve Jobs and Bill Gates.”

“Tony,” Spider-Man cleared his voice. “You’re using a lot of past tense there.”

“You noticed that.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. You’re sounding like she’s dead. We know she’s alive. She was in LA last we knew. What’s up?”

Stark sighed. “Brace yourselves.” He clicked the remote and the pictures changed to photos of an autopsy done on a corpse that had seriously degraded after being in the mud for years. “The investigators found the body of Karen Starr. They identified her through DNA taken from her teeth. She’d been buried in her dad’s back forty for two years. We’ve got her father’s confession. Apparently, he’d been raping her since she was twelve, and when he found out she was planning on leaving he strangled her to death. He killed her because he was afraid she'd tell someone about the abuse.”

There was no sound from anyone. No sound at all. Janet’s hand was to her mouth, and she looked vaguely nauseous. Spider-Man was gripping the edge of the table so hard that Tony was certain it was only seconds from snapping in his hands. Wonder Man stood suddenly and turned away from the table, staring blankly out the conference room’s windows. They’d all seen horrors in their lives as crime-fighters and heroes, but no matter what they’d seen, none of them took the murder of a child lightly. Only Ares seemed unshaken, and naturally, it was the God of War who spoke first.

“If Karen Starr has been dead for two years, exactly who – or what – was it that fought us to a standstill two weeks ago?”

“Yeah, that’s the question, isn’t it? SHIELD’s pulled some hairs out of the shower trap from the cell she was held in and have been working with Reed Richards on developing new techniques to analyze her DNA. So far, they haven’t been able to sequence it, but they finally pegged it as non-human. Apparently, it’s a quadruple helix, where ours are only double.”

More silence. 

“Are we thinking alien?” Black Widow rose from her seat and placed a hand on Wonder Man’s shoulder even as she asked the question. He turned to her and nodded, then turned back to the window.

“Right now, it’s anybody’s guess. She might be a mutant; the DNA guys say that, just on a visual inspection using an electron microscope it’s almost human DNA, just more so. There are some weird sequences, so maybe she’s a mutant.”

Yellowjacket had pushed his mask off his face. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes. “Maybe – maybe she’s some sort of really advanced mutant. I mean, Magneto was always going on rants about how mutants were an advanced form of humanity, maybe she is to them what he thinks mutants are to us.”

“I remember suggesting that she was an Eternal.” Spider-Man jumped with a sigh. “But if she really has a quadruple strand, then we aren’t dealing with an Eternal; despite them all being nearly godlike, they're just a different species of human being. Of course – “his voice trailed off as he was thinking. “Have the DNA analysts double check her DNA lacing to see if it’s really a quadruple helix or merely two linked double helix strands. If it’s the first, we’re looking at an alien species. If it’s the second, then what we have is a mutant whose DNA is twinned. I wouldn’t begin to know what that would do for her, but it would mean she’s human.”

“That only raises the question of why she’s running around pretending to be Karen Starr.” Wasp pointed out. “What do you think that’s about?”

“She’s not pretending to be Karen Starr. She never claimed to be Karen Starr, remember?” Wonder Man turned from the window and returned to his seat. “In fact, she's continually claimed no knowledge of Karen Starr, and has constantly identified herself as Alexander Harris. What if –” He paused, thinking. “What if – “

“You’re about to suggest she’s really Xander Harris from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_? You’re thinking alternate dimensions maybe?” At Simon’s nod, Hank Pym shook his head. “Even – no, that’s silly. First, Xander Harris was a guy, not a girl, so even if he popped in from another universe where, I don’t know, the television show is real life and we’re all characters in a bunch of movies or something, she’d be male and she’s not. Plus, there’s the powers. I watched a couple of the _Buffy_ episodes on Netflix after we lost her, just to do the research, right? Xander Harris never had powers like that. Sure, there was this one episode where he was possessed by the spirit of a tiger, but it wouldn’t have allowed him to beat us all down.”

Silence again.

“Okay,” Spider-Man could always be counted on to break uncomfortable silences. “I guess we saddle up and go looking for her, find out what’s what. Got to tell you, really not looking forward to that.”

But Stark was shaking his head. “No, we’ve been taken off her case.”

“What? What do you mean we’ve been taken off the case? Who else – “Janet Van Dyne’s eyes got very large. She shook her head in denial. “Oh God, don’t tell me!”

“Yeah. It’s as bad as you think.” Stark hesitated before continuing. “Once Gyrich got wind of the investigator’s report, he had the case taken out of our hands and given to Osborne’s department. She’s officially no longer any concern of ours.”

Both Wonder Man and Spider-Man were on their feet. “Are they out of their damned minds!?!” Peter asked. “That pack of psychos? All they’ll do is piss her off!”

“Pete’s right, Tony. You’ve got to get someone higher up to call them off! They’ll go in there with their bull-in-a-china-shop act, believing they can take anyone and everyone, and she’ll mow them down. We’ll be lucky if LA’s still standing afterwards.” Simon slammed his hand down on the table so hard the supports cracked.

“Who am I supposed to go to, the President?” Stark responded with a snort. He’d been a life-long Republican all his life, and was proud to be a Conservative. That said, he would have called George W. Bush a retarded baboon if it wouldn’t be an insult to retarded baboons. The man never should have been elected to the oval office. But he had been. There was no way Stark could convince him to not send in Osborne’s assassins; the man was too much of a cowboy. “This is going to happen, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

He tossed the girl’s file on the table. “Except pick up the pieces when the fires die down.”

“Maybe we could get someone to issue an evacuation order once the fighting starts.” Spider-Man sat back down. He was quiet for a moment, then put his head down, then slowly started beating his forehead into it, just hard enough to make a noise. “I cannot believe this.” He looked up at Stark. “And we’ve been ordered to stay out of it, right?”

Stark just nodded.

Everyone just looked stunned. “Well damn.” Black Widow summed up everyone’s feelings.

“Mr. Stark, I had a question, unrelated to the upcoming combat between the Thunderbolts and Power Girl.” Ares leaned forward. “What will happen to the girl’s father, the rapist?”

“Life without parole. Given the usual reaction to child murderers in prison? I figure he’ll catch a shiv before five years are up.”

**XxxxxxX**

Xander had spent the night calming Louise down; she’d been convinced that Marvin, or some guy named Boz who was supposed to be Marvin’s boss, would come gunning because of what Xander had done. He just lay there while she curled up under his arm and snuggled. He’d stroked her hair and caressed her back, and eventually she stopped shaking and fell asleep.

It was the most physical they’ve been in their short, strange relationship.

Xander hadn’t slept at all. Instead, he’d stayed up, thinking about that very subject. Xander still wasn’t sure if they were officially a couple, but it certainly felt like it. He liked Louise well enough, and thought he might eventually fall for her. His heart still twinged at the thought of Buffy, though he was forced to admit that chances were he’d never see her again, and even if he did it would be as a girl. It wasn’t quite fair. So maybe he should abandon his crush and live in the world he was in, because he might not get out of it.

The rest of the night was spent contemplating Louise, the folks in the camp, his powers, the memories from Power Girl that were leaking into his consciousness, the Avengers, and survival in general. Lots of things. At the end of the night, he hadn’t come to any conclusions. He was fond of Louise, and thought they might end up being a thing, but right now, he was taking it one day at a time.

“Alex?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. He'd thought she had been sleeping.

“Hey.” Alex rolled, gently, so he was looking Louise in the eye. She was pretty, and there was a part of Xander that responded to that. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah.” Louise sleepily batted at her eyes, trying to wake up. “You?”

“Yeah, fine.” He lied. No reason to make her nervous about their situation.

“M’glad.” Louise cupped his face, then kissed him gently on the lips. Then she rolled over, snuggling back into him. He accommodated her by rolling onto the same side and putting an arm over her. Xander had to admit it was adorable, and waking up next to someone, or even having someone wake up next to you, was cool. He closed his own eyes and dozed with her for a while, until it became too warm to sleep.

As usual, he woke before she did. He listened to Debby next door do whatever it was Debby was doing in there before carefully standing. As he was standing to stretch, Louise sat up. “You hungry?” Louise’s question was almost drowned out by the yawn, but he understood her well enough.

“I could eat, sure. We breaking into the ice box or did you want to scrounge something?”

Louise held a hand up, allowing Xander to pull her into a standing position that had them so close they could feel each other’s heartbeats. They stood like that for a moment. Xander’s skin tingled where Louise’s breath hit it. And just like that, Xander made a decision. He leaned his head down and kissed her, gently, but with enough confidence to send the message. He wasn’t sure how long they’d last, but he’d be a fool to ignore that there was some attraction there. Louise kissed back, with just enough fervor for it to count as a staked claim.

“So, uh, I was thinking. I’ve got about fifty bucks saved up.” Louise dug around in her jacket and pulled out a raggedy-looking coin purse. “I was thinking maybe we could go do fancy. Maybe Denny’s? Celebrate, maybe? Because I owe you for getting me out from under Marvin, right? Helping me start new? Just a way of showing you how grateful I can be.” She ran a finger down Xander’s arm, her nail drawing just enough to cause a very interesting tingle. “I can be very grateful, Alex.” She batted her eyes at Xander and smiled. “What do you think?”

“Wait! No. No, you don’t –” Xander frowned just a little. “You don’t owe me for that. You don’t owe me anything. I don’t need you to pay me back for anything. I didn’t do it so you’d owe me. I didn’t do it so you’d sleep with me. I just did it because you watch out for people you— you know – people you care about.”

Louise’s mouth “oh’ed” in surprise. “Oh, hey, I didn’t – please don’t be mad at me, okay? I was just thinking I could buy breakfast. Maybe say thank you.”

“Well, okay.” Xander was still hesitant. “You – I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just I don’t want you to go from being caught by Marvin to be caught by me. I’m not looking to manipulate you into anything, or force you into anything. I just – I just want to get to know you, and maybe you and I, maybe can have something. I mean, we’ll see what happens, right?” He stopped talking, because she’d started nodding.

“Yeah, okay. See what happens.” She sounded simultaneously happy and disappointed. “I didn’t mean to, uh, you know. I just, I just haven’t had a lot of real relationships, you know? Just, uh…”

“Yeah, I get it.” Xander took her hand. “So, fancy breakfast?”

“I was thinking Denny’s. Or maybe the Sizzler Breakfast Buffet, if you want a big variety? Probably Sizzler, ‘cause it would be cheaper and it’s all you can eat, so we can stoke up and maybe sneak some out, right? Sizzler runs a $6 buffet on weekends.” Louise picked through her boodle bag and found her ID and her money, then shoved the bag back into its cubby. She trusted her neighbors okay, but didn’t _trust_ trust them.

“Wait, it’s the weekend?” At Louise’s nod, Xander grinned. “I lost track. Um, this is going to sound stupid, but is it Saturday or Sunday?”

“Saturday. Church tomorrow.”

“Right, Church tomorrow.” Xander giggled. He hated when he giggled, because it made him sound like a girl. Which was a silly thing to be bothered by, given the circumstances, but it was a thing. “Hey, Sizzler it is, then. After you?”

“Why thank you, kind lady?” Louise gave him a quick peck on the cheek before leading him out of the bus.

“Pretty day today. Might get hot later, you think?”

Xander smiled. “Southern California in the summer? Hot? Pshaw!” He swung their hands back and forth, gently and playfully. “It is a pretty day. Doesn’t look like a lot of clouds.” They arrived at the bus stop and waited. “So where is this Sizzler, anyway?”

“I was thinking the one over by La Brea. You said you hadn’t ever been in LA before, so I can show you the tar pits. They’re kind of cool. And then by the time we’re back we can hit the soup kitchen for lunch, then the Convent later for dinner. And in between,” she wrapped herself around Xander and kissed him. “Maybe we can make out a little.”

“Hmmmm.” Xander tipped down and picked her up, easily supporting Louise’s weight with one hand. “Choices, choices. Sit around talking with Oz and the Flower Lady, or making out with you. I’ll have to think about it.” He shifted her so that he was holding her up with one arm.

Louise looked down at her feet. They were both only a few inches above the ground. She turned back to Xander. “You might want to put me down before someone notices."

“Oh please,” Xander laughed. “Look at me. I’m a wall of solid muscle even without the powers. No one would blink at me being able to pick you up like that.”

“Yeah, that’s true, I guess,” she flipped her head toward the approaching bus. “Our ride is here.” Xander dropped her, and the two of them hopped onto the bus. An hour and a half, plus one bus transfer later, and they hopped off the bus a block from the Sizzler.

“And now I’m craving sausage gravy. Is that weird?” Xander scratched the back of his head.

“Nope, not at all. But where do you sit on the subject of pancakes, Alex?”

“Um. I usually sit at a table, I guess?” He wasn’t sure what she was getting at.

“No, I mean, what do you like on them?”

“Oh! I’m a traditionalist. Butter and syrup. Maple syrup, not that fruity stuff. Especially if you warm the syrup before putting it on the pancakes.”

“No fruit syrups. Gotcha. Me, I like jams or fruit. Never really liked maple syrup.”

Xander stopped and looked at her. “Really?” She nodded. “Weird, but okay. And how about – “

But Xander had stopped. He pushed Louise behind him, covering her body with his own. She peered over Xander’s shoulder to see three people blocking their way. Her eyes grew wide as she recognized them. “Alex, I’ve seen these guys on the news. They’d fought the Wrecking Crew.”

Xander gritted his teeth. The Wrecking Crew were Thor villains. They’d fought the entire Avengers team once. So, this might get sticky. He heard movement behind him, and spared a quick moment for a glance. So, seven of them, plus what looked like a dinosaur. One of them was a cyborg, another one was looking like he used gadgets, and a third one had an obvious magic staff. At least one of them was an alien, from what he could see of her skeletal structure.

If this turned into a fight, Magic Staff Girl was going down hard, first.

“Hey. Hate to bother you, but we need to talk. Now.” The girl with the staff had appointed herself spokesman for this group, and had taken a tone that said they weren’t going to brook disagreement. Xander didn’t mind talking, but if it came down to it, he was going to brook a lot of disagreement.

Xander stared back at her. “Louise,” he whispered. “If this becomes nasty I want you to run as far as you can as fast as you can. I’ll find you.”

“Alex, no!”

“Just run, Louise. Please.” Xander turned his attention to the girl with the staff. “Okay, you want to talk. So, talk.”

“Last night we were contacted by a police detective. She wanted to talk to us about some dude named Marvin who got busted up. Wanted to find out how and why he ended up in the emergency room, and thought Bruiser here did it.” The girl with the staff waved toward the little girl with the fuzzy hat. “Now, none of us really give a shit why some pimp got himself beat down, but we don’t like it when one of ours gets blamed for something someone else did, y’know? So, let’s talk.”

Xander watched her, just standing there. Thinking. The girl in the hat, Bruiser the Magic Staff Girl called her, was clenching her fists and looking pissed. He really didn’t want to get into a fight with any superheroes, especially not one that Louise could get caught up in. He did what he did best: he changed course.

“Fine. We’re going to the Sizzler to have biscuits and gravy and pancakes. You’re welcome to come with.” With that, he took Louise’s hand and started toward the Sizzler again. The little girl in the hat stepped in front of the two of them, and without even pausing Xander scooped her up and through the girl over his shoulder. He tossed a “You coming?” toward the rest of the group.

“Hey, put me down, you bozo!” The girl was beating on Xander’s back, and he could tell from the impact that she had some strength to her. He ignored it and kept walking toward the Sizzler. “Put me down, damn it!”

The tall blonde guy, who Xander had labeled Gizmotron, jumped into Xander’s way and put a hand up. Xander noted that the hand was covered in a ridiculously oversized high tech gauntlet. The gauntlet’s palm and fingertips started to glow a bit in the infrared spectrum, but Xander figured the dude wouldn’t shoot while he was holding the girl. So more casually than he felt, Xander brushed the guy aside without comment.

“Hey, kid, what’s your name? I’m, uh, Alex.” The girl kept beating on his back. “Hey, calm down. What’s your name?”

“Guys! Damn it, guys! Stop her! Stop, damn it! Put me down!” The rain of blows continued, a bit harder this time. Kid had some respectable power behind the punch. Not compared to what Xander could produce but not too shabby nonetheless.

“Hey!” It was Magic Staff Girl. “Hey, put her down!” Xander could see it clearly. He’d thrown their game. They expected him to either be cowed or else to start fighting. They weren’t ready for someone who simply did not take them seriously.

“Not until she calms down and tells me her name.”

“Bruiser. Her, uh, her name is Bruise-Bruiser.”

“Right. And my name is Power Girl. This is my sidekick, Lady Clairol.” He pulled the door of the Sizzler open and held it for Louise, whose eyes were huge but who was saying absolutely nothing. The girl over his shoulder had stopped thrashing, apparently realized there was no way to get out of Xander’s arms until Xander decided to let her go.

The heroes were still outside, apparently wondering what to do next. Xander approached the seater and smiled. “Hi there,” he checked the girl’s name tag. “Hi there Anequa. Three for the Buffet?” He turned to Louise. “I know you said you’d get it, but I’ll pick it up this time since I recruited the third, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Louise was still wide-eyed.

“Cool.” He addressed the girl on his shoulder. “Hey, you cool with the breakfast buffet?”

“What? The girl seemed had finished calming down. She half-heartedly hit Xander in the back one last time, then seemed to give up. “Why aren’t I hurting you when I hit you?”

Xander shrugged with the shoulder not carrying a semi-struggling girl. “I’m tougher than I look, that’s all. You hungry?”

“But I’m strong. I can lift a semi over my head.”

“I can too.” Xander said. “But we were talking about breakfast. You interested?”

“Please put me down?” Xander couldn’t tell if it was a demand or a request. The girl had given up struggling and just hung there on his shoulder.

“Sure. What’s your name?”

“Molly.”

“You hungry Molly?”

“Um, okay.”

He put her down, gently. “Hey, Molly. I’m Alex, this is Louise. Thanks for joining us for breakfast. Got to say, I’m loving the hat!”

“Um.” Molly was glancing back and forth between Xander and the door. Xander glanced over and saw her teammates still arguing outside. They seemed to take turns glaring at him through the door, so he made sure to wave every time he spotted it. “Um. Thanks, I guess?”

“Sure. You like biscuits and gravy? I am in the mood for some biscuits and gravy.” Xander and Louise followed the seater to their table. Molly followed along blankly, every once in a while shooting looks toward the door.

“Um.” As Xander and Louise sat, the girl seemed hesitant. “You’re, uh, you’re buying me, um, breakfast? Really?”

“Yeah! Got to love the Sizzler, right? Huge buffet, lots of food. Not the greatest, but they’re not too expensive, so it’s all good.”

“Yeah, but –”

“But? But what? Oh hey, what do you want to drink?” Their waitress arrived. Molly stared at the door again, then sat down. “Molly? What do you want to drink?”

“Can I have some orange juice?”

“Let’s have an orange juice and two cokes, please? And if you could bring me a pot of coffee, I’d love you forever.” Xander glanced at the door. The rest of Molly’s team was filing in, and had been confronted by the seater. They were glaring at Xander, but he just gave them a friendly wave. He stood up. “Time for those biscuits and gravy!”

Louise joined him at the buffet bar. He kept an eye on their table, and knew that Molly’s friends had commandeered another table. The girl herself was standing next to their table, talking rapidly and gesturing back and forth between him and Louise and the table. Every once in a while, her eyes cut toward the breakfast bar. It occurred to Xander that none of her friends had paid for the buffet. They just sort of floated past. The girl looked hungry, so he gestured her toward the food, which at least got a smile out of her. The girl, Molly, began stepping toward the bar while gesturing toward it, in that over-exaggerated way a pre-teen has to make a point.

Xander smiled at that. He turned back to the bar and loaded his plate with some fried potatoes, some grits, a split biscuit, some sausage patties, some shredded fried chicken, and some sautéed mushrooms. Shortly sausage gravy covered everything. Turning toward the table, he had to suddenly juggle his plate to keep it from pouring all over Magic Staff Girl, who was standing in his way. “Whoa! Careful there!” He managed to keep his breakfast on the plate without slopping it all over either her or himself.

“Just what is going on?” She sounded indignant. The indignation increased as he stepped around her and headed to the table. “You can’t just pick someone up and drag them into a restaurant like that!”

“Breakfast, just what it looks like.” He shrugged in the direction of the girl, Molly, who was piling her plate high with waffles.

Magic Staff Girl followed behind him. “You bought her breakfast. Why did you buy her breakfast? What the hell are you doing? We need to talk to you!”

“Okay, so we can talk. But my, uh, my girlfriend and I are hungry, and we came here to eat.” He shot a quick smile toward Louise, who returned it. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but money is kinda tight for us, so even coming to a low-grade place like this one is splurging. We’re going to enjoy it while we’re here, okay?” He smiled up at her, then took his first bite of his food. For an el-cheapo breakfast buffet, it was manna from heaven. Louise sat down across from him a moment later, her plate stacked with pancakes and scrambled eggs. They ate in silence for a bit before Molly joined them. Molly looked a bit sheepish, but her feelings didn’t keep her from digging into the waffles. “You’re welcome to join us, but I think they’re going to want you to pay for the food first.” Xander bobbed his head to the right, toward the entry point where the manger was standing with the seater. Both were staring at the kids who’d invaded their restaurant and were now harassing paying customers.

Magic Staff Girl’s mouth opened and closed. Then opened and closed again. Then she and her crowd, minus Molly, stomped off toward the cash register. Louise’s eyes bugged out at Xander. “What the fuck are you doing? These guys are seriously badass!”

Xander took a huge bite of his breakfast, chewed, swallowed, and smiled at her. “Don’t worry. My strength is that of ten men, for my heart is pure.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Yeah?” She laughed. “Pure what?”

“I’ll never tell.” He smiled at her again, then continued eating. Molly was contentedly finishing her waffles, while Louise was slowly picking apart her pancakes. Magic Staff Girl came back and took the fourth seat at Xander’s table, while the rest of her team claimed one nearby.

“Okay, now we’re all official.” It was a snark, but as such things went, it was moderate. “What the hell was pulling Molly into this place all about?”

Xander dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, then considered ignoring the question in favor of getting more food. Instead, he answered. “Molly was in my way and was going to try and stop us from coming in here. I didn’t want to fight because Louise and I wanted to celebrate with breakfast, so I figured I’d invite her in.” The rest of her team was at the other table. They’d all grabbed some food, but for the most part they were pushing it around on their plates, not eating it. They were paying attention to the byplay between Xander and Magic Staff Girl, but were letting her do all the heavy lifting when it came to the conversation. Except for Molly.

Magic Staff Girl followed his eyes as he glanced at Molly. Molly was eating more waffles. She’d added some of the banana sauce to them. And what looked like chocolate chips. Grimm leaned forward. “Molly was hitting you. You just took it. I know how strong she is. How are you not a bloody lump right now?”

Xander shrugged. “I've been hit harder.”

“So not only are you strong, you’re tough enough to take one of her punches.” Xander could see the girl doing some math behind her eyes, and he did not like that at all.

“Was there a point to all this or did you just want to join us for breakfast?” He wanted to resolve whatever this was, but he wasn’t going to just sit there and let the girl plan his demise.

The question broke her line of thought. “Yeah, like I said, we had some detective talk to us about that guy Marvin. When one of us gets blamed for things we didn’t do, I go looking for answers. Like why Marvin got put in the hospital, and why someone tried to frame Molly for it.”

“Well,” he took a sip of his coke. “I think it’s unfortunate that someone thinks Molly here beat up Marvin, but that part of it really isn’t my business.” He set his glass down. “Look --” He paused, thinking. “What do I call you?”

“Huh?”

“Your name. I can’t just call you ‘hey, you.”

“Oh. I call myself Sister Grimm. Do you really call yourself Power Girl?”

“No, that’s just a name the registration people wanted me to use. I call myself, ah, ‘Alex’. ‘Cause, you know, it’s my name.” Xander blinked at her. “Don’t tell me you really thought Louise called herself Lady Clairol. Did you?”

“Uh.”

“Right. So, like I asked, what do you want from us?” Xander was eyeing the breakfast bar again, and this conversation was getting stale.

Magic Staff Girl – it didn’t matter what she called herself, this is the label that stuck in Xander’s head – shrugged almost apologetically. “We got told that some super-strong girl had put a pimp in the hospital, tore off one of his fingers,” this caused Xander to wince slightly, “and tore his car in two before dragging it to the local police precinct. We’re just about the only real superheroes out here, other than some independent operators. Call it a professional interest.”

“Okay, makes sense. Marvin was self-defense. He came in waving a gun around. Could have hurt people. So, I stopped him. I’m not going to apologize. I mean, guy’s still alive, right?”

“That’s it?”

Xander goggled a bit at the girl’s question. Then he looked at his plate again. “Hey hold on a second.” He stood up and headed to the bar. When he was back, it was stacked with pancakes and bacon and all of it covered in maple syrup.

“Where were we?” he asked around a mouthful of pancake. “Oh yeah, you asked a question. Yeah, that’s it. I’m not interested in either fighting bad guys or knocking over banks. I just want to watch out for people I care about. Not saying I won’t jump in if I see, I dunno, Electro attacking a bank I’m walking past, or if there’s a fire or something, but I’m not going out looking for trouble. I’m just looking for a way home.”

Xander took a bite of the bacon, then spit it out. Tasted like ass. He was about to eat some more of his pancakes when he stopped. “Hey, how did you find us, anyway?”

“Sympathetic magic. Took me forever to find the finger, but once I had it, it led me right to you.” Magic Staff Girl finally took a bite of her toast. “You’re just looking for a way home? Any reason why you can’t just hop a bus?”

Xander turned to look at Louise. “Please don’t freak on me, okay?”

Louise suddenly looked worried. “Why? Are you, like, an alien from another planet or something?” She swallowed hard. “Not that if you – I mean, I still would – “She wasn’t exactly looking at Xander.

_You don’t know the half of it._ But Xander didn’t say that. Didn’t even let his face move in reaction. “I’m uh, actually, I’m from another Earth. A parallel Earth. The town I was born in doesn’t exist here. I just sort of appeared here last Halloween. There was this sorcerer, and he did this spell, and the next thing I know I’m here.”

“And you’re trying to get back there.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. I had friends and a life. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine. And now I’m in a strange place surrounded by strange people, and I’m living on the street and I just want to go home.” The tears surprised him. “So much about this world just sucks. My world was horrible, but I knew where I stood. Nothing’s been the same since I got here, and I want my old life back. Everything here just sucks.”

“Everyth – Everything? Everything sucks?” Louise stood up, her eyes huge. “I need to go. I need to go. I just – I need to go.” She didn’t quite run out, but it was close.

“Shit.” Without another word, Xander followed her. He stepped out of the restaurant, searching for her. She wouldn’t have gotten far, and she hadn’t. Louise had stopped at the edge of the parking lot, just sitting on the curb, crying. She looked up at Xander as he approached.

“Everything sucks? Even me? Even --” she waved her hands in the air. “This? Our, whatever this is? I care about you. I want to care more about you. I want to get to know you, Alex. I want to see if maybe we can be a thing. Can we – and you tell me this all just.” She stopped abruptly, looking away again. “You just want to leave? When were you going to tell me?”

“Actually, I was going to ask you to come with me. Come with me, and you’ll have friends, and a home, and you won’t have to worry about food or shelter or getting sick.” Xander knelt and took the girl into his arms. “You’re my friend, and you’ve treated me like a person, and I think you’re great. And yeah, we can see where it all goes.’

She smiled beneath the tears. “Not worrying about where I’m going to sleep would be nice. But what if we don’t work out? You still want me to come with you?”

“Sure. My friends wouldn’t kick you out onto the street if we didn’t work out. And besides, me going back home isn’t too likely, right? I mean, how many sorcerers do you know who could open up a door to home?” Xander helped her stand and hugged her. He looked back at the restaurant. Magic Staff Girl, Molly, and the rest of their friends were watching them from just outside the door. “I think our breakfast is over.”

Magic Staff Girl had her arms crossed in front of her, watching them. After a few minutes of mutual staring, she finally approached. “I think I might be able to help you get home. If you want me to, I mean. And if you can trust me.”

Xander studied her, but couldn’t figure out if she was bullshitting him. Everyone stared at him, staring at her, staring at him. Finally, he bobbed his head once. “Yeah, okay.”

“Good.” Magic Staff Girl smiled at him, and for the first time felt some warmth from her. “Come with us then.”

**XxxxxxX**

“Got to say,” Xander quipped as he took in his surroundings. “I never once would have suspected that the La Brea Tar Pits had a secret headquarters beneath them.”

The blonde kid, the one Xander thought of as Gizmotron but had introduced himself as Talkback, laughed. “We actually think of it more as a lair than a headquarters. It’s more personal that way. More homey.”

“I can see how that would be.” He leaned into Louise, who was snuggled up into him. She was still stressed and frightened and nervous, but wanted to go home with him. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to her, even if this burgeoning whatever it was didn’t work out. “So, how does this work?” Magic Staff Girl was using the butt end of her staff to draw out a circle in the middle of the lair’s main space. “Just for concentration purposes,” she’d told him when she began.

“I haven’t exactly done this sort of thing before, but it shouldn’t be something out of my reach. You stand in the circle, I send you home. Hocus pocus, alakazam, and abracadabra. Magic. Simple, really.” She shrugged. “Come over here, and stand in the circle, and we’ll get this done.”

They did. Magic Staff Gir – Sister Grimm, held her staff before her and the entire room was suddenly bathed in a greenish light. It scared Xander for a moment, who had always associated green with being sick and injured for some reason he couldn’t quite articulate. But this light was warm and familiar and welcoming somehow, as if it wasn’t a herald of illness or injury, but rather was the mark of a friend. It was the feeling of being embraced by your mother, your sister, your daughter – Louise smiled up at Xander and brought his hand to her mouth and kissed its back. “It’s really going to be all right, isn’t it?” she whispered to him as the power of Sister Grimm’s magic swelled around them. “I feel – I feel like –”

And before he could finish the thought, Xander and Louise had vanished in a flare of warm green light.

**XxxxxxX**

Nico Minoru wiped the sweat from her brow as she stared at the empty space the two young women had just occupied. That was the first time she’d ever invoked that sort of power, and it had surprised her when the energy she summoned up to open a doorway to Alex’s home dimension had neither felt cold and boring or searing and destructive, but felt alive, warm, and friendly.

She smiled at her teammates. “So, what are we going to do for the rest of the day?”

Chase just smiled. “I dunno. We could always go down to the – “

There was a loud noise. It sounded almost like a horde of human voices were simultaneously screaming out “SCHWOOK!” before fading into silence. A wave of pressure knocked everyone to the ground. Molly was the first to climb back to her feet, and she could just stare. Louise and Xander were back, standing in the circle.

“– like there’s something out there that cares… about…” Louise trailed off as she noticed their surroundings. Xander was just as surprised. From their point of view, there had been a green flash, and then nothing.

“Okay, that was, um, useless. What just happened, anyway?”

**XxxxxxX**


	13. RAGNAROK!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy My brothers. And you will know My name is the LORD when I lay My vengeance upon thee.” – **Jules Winfield** (Samuel L. Jackson), “Pulp Fiction”_

**XxxxxxX**

“Okay, that was, um, useless. What just happened, anyway?” Xander stared at the staff-wielding sorceress. “I thought that spell of yours was supposed to send us to my home dimension.”

Sister Grimm stared, open-mouthed. “Well, yeah! It should have!” Xander snorted. “No, Alex, you don’t understand. My spells always work. Always. The only time they fizzle out is when I try to cast a spell more than once, and even then, there’s some effect. I promise, this is the first time I’ve ever used a ‘Send Alex and Louise to the Dimension from Which Alex Came’ spell. So, it should have worked! It should have!”

“Well obviously, it didn’t, did it?” Xander was angry and near panic. He’d been so close.

“Hey, Alex, it’s okay. Calm down. She’s trying to help.” Louise put her hand on Xander’s shoulder and rubbed it gently.

“Yeah. Yeah. Right. Calm. I’m calm.” Xander took a few deep breaths. “God! I’m calm. I’m calm.” He took another few breaths, then looked at Sister Grimm. “Your spell didn’t work. Why what would make your spell fail?”

“Nothing. Only me trying to use a spell I’ve already case. But I told you, even then something happens. It just doesn’t fail.”

Xander opened his mouth to make a sarcastic retort, but was interrupted by Talkback, who had been watching the exchange. “What if the spell worked after all, but not the way you thought it would?”

Everybody else in the room stared at the young man.

“How do you mean?” Sister Grimm asked.

“Well, that’s happened before. You cast a spell to do one thing, but you misword it, or you don’t really want it to happen, or something distracts you and the spell works just fine, but instead of conjuring a wolf you conjure a Chihuahua or something.” Talkback shrugged. “I mean, that’s the easiest answer.”

Sister Grimm was silent for a long time, staring at Xander. It made him uncomfortable after a while. “What? Do I have a booger coming out of my nose or something?”

“He’s right. It’s the only logical explanation. The spell actually worked somehow, just not like we expected it to.” She sighed, one of those deep forlorn sighs people make when they realize they’re going to have to do something unpleasant. “Yeah, okay. We need to go talk to someone. Chase?” Talkback looked at her quizzically. “I need your car keys.”

Xander’s first thought was So, Talkback’s first name was Chase. Weird name. But then he stifled the thought. His best friend was a girl named Willow.

“Yeah, sure, Nic.” The blonde man tossed Sister Grimm his keys. “It’s parked where it’s usually parked. Take care of my baby, now.”

**XxxxxxX**

Turned out that Chase’s 'baby' was a Mustang convertible, one of the early models. 1965, maybe, or 1966. Xander whistled over it. Even though the car was currently a rusted-out piece of shit whose primary paint color was Bondo, it was clear to Xander’s eye that Talkback was at least trying to slowly and surely restore the car to its classic condition. He was just doing it in a weird way. Why bother getting the seats re-upholstered, for example, when the rocker panel was still spotted with holes and rust? But it wasn’t his car. It was a sweet ride, though. Talkback had already replaced all the tires, restored the engine to perfect working order, and had apparently had some work done on the shocks and the suspension.

He let Louise sit up front with Sister Grimm while he took the back. The top was down, and as they accelerated up the Pacific Coast Highway, he took a moment to enjoy the feeling of the wind in his hair. His hair. Without thinking about it, he brought a handful of his hair around and looked at it. Golden blonde, and swiftly approaching waist length. Kara’s memories – he still thought of them as being separate from his own memories – told him that once it got past a certain length, it stopped being as invulnerable as the rest of him and could be trimmed with a pair of scissors just like anyone else's hair. And yet he had just let it grow, because he thought it was prettier when long, and somehow that had made him feel better about himself. Better about being, physically, at least, a girl. He still refused to think of himself as female, but at least he could take steps to make it more palatable.

He was brought back to Earth when he realized Louise had asked their driver a question. He hadn’t paid attention to the question itself, but the answer was clear enough that he could figure out what she asked. Xander leaned forward in his seat to take part in the conversation.

“We’re going to see this guy I know. He’s this immortal sorcerer guy and while I have him beat when it comes to raw power, he knows entire libraries of stuff more than I do. And he’s the only wizard I can think of within an hour’s drive who isn’t also a psycho-killer.”

“So where are we going?” Xander asked.

“Hollywood. We’re going to the Magic Castle. If I remember right, he should be there. He’s doing a week of shows there for the dinner trade.”

“The Magic – wait – there’s a magic castle in Los Angeles? And what do you mean he’s doing shows? I thought you said this friend of yours was some sort of wizard?” Xander looked up abruptly, seeing movement in the sky above them. Some sort of radio controlled plane was passing over the highway.

Grimm smirked at him over her shoulder before turning her attention back to the road. “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t believe how many stage magicians are the real thing. I think it’s a side effect of the magic. We all tend to be show-offs. We want everybody to see how powerful we are and how clever we are. What better way to show off than to climb up on stage and use your real magic to pretend you’d doing fake magic, right?”

Louise suddenly had the giggles. “I guess it makes sense. I watched Penn and Teller on TV once. They were phenomenal.” She turned to Xander, kissed her fingertips, and pressed them to his lips. “It was a cool show. Are you telling me they can really do magic?”

“Nope. Not them. They’re just skilled illusionists. Amazing performers, but not a drop of real magic in them.”

“How about Copperfield?” Louise asked.

“Nope. Another illusionist.” This seemed to scandalize Louise, which caused Xander to giggle. He hated giggling. He glanced up again. The RC plane was making another pass across the highway.

“So, uh, what big name magicians would we have heard of who were the real thing?” Xander was curious, and it was a good way to pass the time.

“Oh, well, I don’t want to out anybody, really. I mean, I’m going to be outing David, but that can’t be helped.” Grimm was quiet for a moment. “Oh, I know. Doug Henning. Everybody I’ve ever talked to about the great sorcerers of the past tell me he was one of the brightest lights. Great performer, friendly as Mister Rogers. His generation’s Merlin, I shit you not. The man had more magic in his moustache than most wizards had in their entire body. According to Jennifer Kale – and she would know, let me tell you, – Henning was a one of the backup candidates for the Sorcerer Supreme title just in case Stephen Strange died. They used to call Henning the Rainbow Mage because of the eye-searing costumes he wore onstage. And then he died of liver cancer. Real tragedy.”

Xander shook his head. The idea that a stage magician hiding their real ability wasn’t that weird. The Power Girl memories told her stories of Zatanna Zatara and her father, John, both of whom used real magic to fight crime while maintaining a performing career. “What’s this guy’s name?”

She was quiet for a moment, then she stared at him through the rear-view. “Yeah. Listen. First rule of magic. Don’t let anybody know your real name. Real names have power.”

Xander stared right back. “But – I was there when _Chase_ called you _Nick_ or something. You let me know at least your first name, right?”

“Did I? Maybe.” She smirked at him. It was almost like she was flirting with him. Xander looked at Louise, and Louise wasn’t enjoying that aspect of their back-and-forth.

“So, uh, what is your name, then?” Louise asked.

“No.” Grimm gave the other woman a quick glance. “Weren’t you listening? Never ask a practitioner of magic for their name. Ask them – what you should do instead is ask them what they want to be called.”

Louise looked at Xander, who shrugged. “Okay,” Louise asked. “What should we call you?”

“You can call me Nico.” Sister Grimm smiled, completely blowing her ‘superhero moniker’ out of the water.”

“Is that short for Nichole?” Xander heard Louise ask as he sat back. He continued to listen to Louise and Nico banter without paying attention. Apparently, they decided they were going to be fast friends. He didn’t know how long it would take to get to the magic castle, but he figured he owed himself some chill time. He sat all the way back, leaned his face up into the sun, and closed his eyes.

**XxxxxxX**

“Alex? We’re here.”

Xander snapped awake. He looked up at Louise in confusion. Without thinking he wiped at the crust in his eyes caused by rapidly drying tears.

“Come on, sweetie. We’re here. Let’s go meet this wizard guy.”

Xander looked around, confused and trying to gain his bearings. Hadn’t meant to drift off like that, but the sun was warm and invigorating and the wind was like a massage and he hadn’t been able to help it. And during his little catnap, he’d dreamed. There was a thin, brown-haired girl with bright hazel eyes and an elfin look. The girl had been surrounded by a sort of hazy green aura, but for some reason, in the dream, that was just the way it was supposed to be. The two of them had been re-shelving books in the Sunnydale library. She’d been talking, telling him incredibly important things about himself, and about her, and about Buffy, and magic and the entire length of time and space, and she’d really sounded like she knew what she was talking about. The things she said, and the things she had showed to him, and explained to him were all very, very important things, and he remembered that at the end, he’d been crying. Absolutely bawling his eyes out. And he remembered, right before he woke up, that this glowing green girl had hugged him. And then she’d whispered in his ear that she loved him, and that she had faith in him.

He had no idea who this girl was. Just that she seemed friendly. She loved him. Funny how that was the only thing she said in the dream that he remembered.

“Right. Right. We’re here.” He carefully climbed out of the car and stretched, raising his arms up over his head. Louise whistled cattily and Sister Grimm just gawked for a moment. It puzzled Xander until he looked down. Oh, those. Yeah. He’d got so used to them being there that unless he was reminded, he forgot about them.

“Jeez, guys, let it go already.” He rolled his eyes as he tugged his shirt down and slouched, trying to draw attention away from his chest. He motioned toward the castle, silently asking Nico to lead the way. As the sorceress did, she grabbed Louise’s arm and leaned in. Xander rolled his eyes at the whispered question, and at Louise’s nodding response. Up until that point, he’d always assumed it was only guys who wondered if a girl’s tits were real.

They climbed a short staircase to the entrance, and were admitted by a doorman in a tuxedo who tipped his top hat to Sister Grimm. The entrance led into a small, carpeted foyer lined with book shelves and mirrors, but with no other exits. Without pausing, their guide stepped to one of the bookcases and said, “Open sesame!” directly at a carved wooden statue of an owl that sat on one of the shelves. The bookcase opened, and behind it was a grand gallery, with a hardwood floor and walls covered in portraits of the great magicians of the past. At one end was a grand staircase that rivaled the one that had graced the _HMS Titanic_ , and three doorways led off it.

“Oh, Nico! How nice to see you again, my dear!” An older gentleman’s voice called, causing the party to halt. The man in question came from one of the ground floor entranceways. Sister Grimm smiled, then held her arms out for a hug, which the man was only happy to supply. He was older, with silver hair and a bald spot, but his face held a gentle child-like nature and was open and friendly. Xander thought he looked a bit like a beardless Santa Claus.

“It’s good to be seen, Ray.” She drew the man over to her companions. “Ray, these are my friends, Alexandra and Louise. Alex, Louise, this is my dear friend Ray Bradbury.” Louise shook the man’s hand with a pleasant, ‘nice to meet you’, but Xander was suddenly having trouble breathing.

“Ray – Ray Bradbury? Oh man – “Xander didn’t know how to react. Xander took the man’s hand in his own and shook it gently. This was the man whose books began his travels down the Sci Fi Geek Road. It was _The Illustrated Man_ and _Fahrenheit 451_ and _The Martian Chronicles_ that led him to Heinlein and Asimov, and it was Heinlein and Asimov that led him to _Star Trek_ and _Star Wars_! Bradbury’s smile grew wider, and without explanation he reached into his breast pocket for a pen and what looked like a business card. Without pause, he wrote something on it and handed it to Xander, then turned back to Sister Grimm.

Xander stared down at the card, which read, _It is always refreshing and wonderful to meet such an obvious fan. Thanks, Ray Bradbury._ Xander just stared at it for a moment before putting the card carefully into a pocket. It took him a minute to realize that Nico was talking to him like Ray Bradbury – RAY BRADBURY!!! – was just another guy.

“I think I saw him up in the Houdini See, getting a bite to eat. He’s performing tonight, which means he’ll be chewing on that onion of his.” Bradbury seemed to shudder. “I understand that stage magicians can be superstitious, but why follow superstition that give you bad breath, I’ll never know. Anyway, I’m off. You three have fun.”

Sister Grimm waved goodbye and started up the grand staircase, but Xander couldn’t take his eyes off his favorite author, not until the man had walked out of sight. “Xander, come on.” Louise pulled on his arm. “Nico says the guy we need to talk to is upstairs.”

“What?” Xander looked around. “Oh, yeah! Sorry.’

“No problem. Ray’s a good guy. I take it you have read his books? I’ve read a couple of them.”

“A couple of – wow. Once I started reading his stories, I couldn’t put them down. He’s amazing.” They walked to the next story up, then followed their guide down a narrow corridor. “When I was twelve I found a copy of _The Illustrated Man_ in an old bookstore Willow had dragged me into… she used to drag me into a lot of bookstores. That’s also how I found comic books.”

Louise looked hesitant. “Was Willow your girlfriend back home?”

“What? No.” Xander shrugged. “More like – Willow was the twin sister I wish I’d been born with. We’ve been friends since we were both six.” His expression turned a bit grim. “I miss her a lot.” Louise leaned in for a hug while they walked.

Finally, Sister Grimm opened a door and led them into an octagonal room dominated by a green felt-covered table, at which sat a man obviously eating his lunch. The man was dressed in a bright, lime green suit, had long black hair pulled back into a pony-tail with a piece of purple ribbon, and a thin, well-trimmed salt-and-pepper goatee. He was eating what looked like a plate of thinly sliced onions, occasionally dashing salt and pepper on them. From the smell, the onions were raw. Arrayed in front of his plate were what looked like Tarot cards, with the rest of the deck sitting next to his glass.

“David!” At Sister Grimm’s call, the man paused in his eating, staring at them for a moment. Then he shoved another onion slice into his mouth. “There you are. I need your advice.”

The man chewed and swallowed, then took a sip of something gold-colored that was in a champagne flute. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.” He put his fork down and took another sip of his drink, all the while gesturing to the other chairs at the table.

As they were sitting, Nico said, “Xander, Louise, this is David Moondark. David, this is Alexandra and Louise.” She waved casually at the man in the green suit. “David here wants to live forever. He’s one of the bad guys. A black magician. Also, one of the founders of the Magic Castle.”

“Delightful as always, Sister.” He returned her casual wave. “Charmed to make your acquaintance, ladies. What questions do you have? What would you like to know?”

Xander looked at Louise, who looked back at Xander. Xander was about to speak, when Louise interrupted. “Are you really a black magician?”

The man took another drink. “Certainly not! There’s no such thing as black magic. That’s just an example of semantic drift. The phrase ‘black magic’ is a translation of the word ‘nigromancy’, you see. And ‘nigromancy’ is just a corruption of the word ‘necromancy,’ the magic of the dead. It’s not ‘black magic’ versus ‘white magic.’ I tend to think of it as live magic versus dead magic. But even that’s just simplistic dualism.”

Nico and Xander continued to stare at Louise, who was still staring at Moondark. “I see. I think I see. And, um, David Moondark isn’t your real name, is it?”

Moondark nodded at her, smiling indulgently. “I see you learned the first rule. Names have power, child.” He turned to Sister Grimm, still smiling. “Sister, you are positively fidgeting in your chair. I have to assume you didn’t come here to have me share my basic wisdom with some new protégés.”

“I cast a spell and it didn’t work. I came for help figuring out why.”

“Really. Were you using the staff?” Moondark pushed his chair back and stretched in his chair.

“For this spell? Yes.”

“Oh? Something unusual with the spell in question?”

“Yeah, I was trying to send Alex back to her home dimension, and Louise was accompanying her. I’ve never tried to breach a dimensional barrier before, took a lot of juice. Thing is, the spell felt like it worked. But as you can see, they’re still here.”

“Hmm.” Moondark stroked his goatee. It was a proper goatee, too: just the chin whiskers, nothing on the upper lip. It wasn’t a Van Dyke, which so many people today mixed up with the goatee. He glanced at Louise, then almost instantly dismissed the girl. His attention turned to Xander, and the stare held for a moment. As their eye-to-eye contact continued, Moondark’s eyes got wider and wider and wider and wider.

“Ah. Hurm.” Moondark stood and paced for a bit. “I have to confess, I was seriously considering manipulating this little kaffeeklatsch to my advantage. Given that this involved you, Sister, I’m sure you understand.” He turned to Xander and spoke directly to him. “But now that I have seen the powers that have touched you, young miss, I must confess that I’d much rather help you as much as I can. After that, I think I will be cancelling the rest of my shows.” He waved vaguely at the array of Tarot cards in front of his plate. “I have the sudden urge to travel as far as I can get from this city.”

“What the hell are you talking about, David?”

That caused Moondark to snort. “I’m surprised you can’t feel the taint of chaos on this girl, Sister.” He stepped to a sideboard and picked up the receiver of a house phone. “Yes, hello. Yes, everything is fine. Could you send up a silver bowl filled with spring water, some comfrey, some basil, and a consecrated dagger, please? On the usual card, yes. Thank you that would be fine.”

Moondark sat back down. “So, young miss, which of them did you supplicate to gain your power? Given your look, that fair hair and skin, I doubt it was Coyote or Ti Malice. Loki, I would think, or perhaps Gwydion. Even Eris isn’t out of the question.”

“What? Who did I – supplicate? I didn’t do this to myself, big guy. It was sort of done to me against my will. I, uh, it wasn’t on purpose.”

“Oh, I assure you that what was done to you was on purpose. The consequences of what was done to you perhaps weren’t on purpose, but spell’s like this don’t happen by accident. Hmmm.” Moondark thought about it some more. “Let me see your hand please?” He held his own out. Reluctantly, Xander laid one of his hands in the dark magician’s. The man studied the lines and marks on Xander’s hand, occasionally twisting it at the wrist, all very gently. “Most interesting. On the one hand, your skin and the muscles underneath it are as soft and pliable as my own. But then stressed, they become harder than marble.” He glanced up at Xander. “And you say this was a spell someone else put on you? Hmm. Tell me about what happened.”

“Uh, sure.” Xander thought back. He could access the memories clearly, but it took a moment to gather his thoughts. “My high school principle ordered me and my friends to escort a bunch of little kids from the elementary school around for trick-or-treating on Halloween. Some public service take back the night keep our streets safe thing, you know?”

“Certainly.” Moondark nodded. “I’ve done that occasionally myself. Most satisfying, emotionally, seeing the laughter of the children as they collect their candy.”

“You have?” Louise interjected. “I thought you were a bad guy.”

“I am a bad guy, Ms. Fulford. That doesn’t mean I wish to hurt children, or that I cannot enjoy making them happy. Now – I’m sorry, my dear, you were saying?” Moondark nodded to Xander and waved his hand in clear 'keep talking' gesture.

“Oh, well, my friends and I, Willow and Buffy, I mean, we all went down to this costume shop. I had, uh, lost a bet to the school bitch – her name is Cordelia Chase, and she’s constantly ragging on us, and I had this bet regarding a test in a class I knew I was doing better than she was doing. The winner would pick the other’s Halloween costume, and we both knew we’d pick something as humiliating as possible.”

He took a deep breath. Here it came. “She picked out this skimpy, really revealing costume for a female superhero from the comic books called Power Girl. Even came with fake boobs, a blonde wig, and a fake ass.” Everyone else in the room was silent for a moment. Then Moondark’s face cracked into a smile as he shook his head. Sister Grimm covered her mouth, but they all could hear her laughing behind it. Louise laughed as well, all the while patting Xander on the shoulder. Eventually, even he saw the humor in the situation. “Yeah, it was pretty stupid.” And then everyone was laughing. While they were laughing, a waiter rolled a cart into the room carrying those items Moondark had ordered in through the phone.

“Why did you need fake boobs? I mean, look at you?” Louise was still laughing.

“Um. I didn’t have these. I. Crap. Look, the truth is, until I showed up in this world, I was a guy. I was a guy named Xander Harris – short for Alexander. All man, through and through. Then I got turned into a girl.”

“Wait, you’re really a guy?”

“Louise, look – yes, on the inside, I’m a guy. I know I’m a girl on the outside, but in my head, I’m a guy.”

Louise was staring at the floor. “I guess, I mean, if you still, I’m not into. Crap. Look, I don’t think – you sort of, um. You kept this from me, and I’m upset. But we’ve been doing well lately, right? Getting to know each other. You’d have told me, eventually, right?”

Xander was quiet. “Yeah. Eventually.”

“Okay. Good. You’re still the girl I’m, uh, falling for, I mean.” Louise took Xander’s hand in her own and squeezed.

“Yeah, okay.” Xander kissed the back of her hand. “Anyway, so sometime around, I don’t know, seven or eight o’clock, I got this weird feeling all over and suddenly I looked like this, and I was capable of everything Power Girl could do, and I even thought I was Power Girl. And everybody else who bought a costume from this store turned into their costumes too.”

He heard Moondark mutter to himself, “I’ll have to remember that. Interesting way to cause a little chaos at the next Hollywood party I attend.”

Xander pretended he hadn’t heard that. “So anyway, Giles – he was our school librarian – Giles figures out what’s going on, and he and I go to the costume shop. Giles seemed to know the owner of the shop. He was this guy named Ethan and he called himself a chaos mage.” Xander was quiet for a minute, thinking. “Anyway, Giles convinced this Ethan guy to tell us how to break the spell by punching Ethan in the face repeatedly, then kicking him a couple of times while he was down. So, um, Giles did. Break the spell, I mean. He had to smash this little statue of the head of a god. Had two faces on it. The shop owner – his name was Ethan – he said that it was a bust of Janice. I don’t remember a Greek god named Janice.”

“Janice? Oh! You mean Janus?” Moondark shook his head. “Why would a chaos mage invoke Janus? It makes no sense.”

“How so?” It was the first time Sister Grimm spoke in a while. “I’m not that conversant with Greek mythology. Never heard of a god named Janus.”

“Janus wasn’t Greek, he was Roman. Janus was the god of beginnings and transitions, and thus also of doorways, gates, passages, change, time, and aging. He was also the god of progress. He was definitively _not_ a god of chaos.”

“Ethan definitely said it was Janus, though.” Xander scanned his perfect memory again. “Yeah, definitely Janus. You said he was a god of change. Like changing us all into our costumes.”

Moondark was quiet again for a while. “Perhaps. Perhaps. Well… that is interesting. I suppose it would have worked if he approached it as an opportunity for change and not an opportunity for chaos. In any case, let’s see what we can find, shall we?”

With that, Moondark added the herbs to the water in the silver bowl and stirred it with the dagger. Then he made a small cut in his palm and allowed his own blood to drip into the water. He stirred it again, eyeing Xander. “Young miss, would you do me the favor of spitting into the water?”

Xander’s eyebrows collected in the middle of his forehead. “You want me to spit – “

“Well, this isn’t an enchanted dagger. It would be useless for adding your blood. Unless – and please don’t be offended by this, but – you aren’t menstruating right now, are you?”

“What? No!” Xander looked shocked and disgusted. “I, uh – I haven’t actually had that, uh, happen. I mean, I guess it did while I was unconscious, but not since I woke up.”

“Since you woke up?” Grimm asked.

“Yeah, I was in a coma for about six months.”

“Ah. You’re a guy inside a stripper’s body, and you’ve yet to go through your monthlies.” Grimm was laughing, while Louise was staring at Xander with wide, wide eyes. Moondark merely cocked an eyebrow at Xander, his face otherwise blank. Grimm stifled her laughter and asked, “So, sport, just out of curiosity, how long’s it been since you woke up?”

“Uh, about three weeks, I guess?” Xander shrugged. “Why do you ask?”

Sister Grimm face-palmed. “Oh boy. Louise, your girlfriend’s been awake for nearly a month and hasn’t had her period yet. Take care of this poor girl, okay?” Louise was grimacing, obviously trying to not laugh.

Moondark finally spoke. “Yes, good luck, young miss. Now, since the dagger is unlikely to cut your skin, and since you won’t have any menstrual blood available for at least the next few hours –” At Xander’s disgusted face, he shrugged. “– I need you to spit into the bowl. A really good one too. Try to get as much liquid into it as you can.”

Xander stared at the man, working his mouth to get a big mouthful of saliva. Then he hawked it into the bowl.

“Excellent. Thanks.” Moondark continued to stir the water with the dagger, all the while repeating several words in a language Xander didn’t understand. The words faded from his memory almost as quickly as Xander heard them, which was very strange. Within a few seconds, the water became cloudy and red, then abruptly cleared. Moondark stared into the bowl, making odd sounds of “huh,” and “hmmm” and occasionally muttering words like “odd” and “wait.” After a few moments, the black magician fell back into his chair. He tossed the dagger into the bowl almost neglectfully. He started chuckling then, but it was a dark, unpleasant sound. Moondark eventually covered his face in his hands and rubbed at his eyes ineffectively.

“Well?” Sister Grimm had been staring into the bowl.

“Well.” Moondark started to speak, then restarted. Then sat there, and then again started. After the fourth time, he finally said, “So. Do you wish to hear the good news, or the bad news first?”

“Good news.” Louise said. “Always good news first.”

“Well, yes. All right.” Moondark took a deep breath. “The good news is two-fold.” He pointed to Sister Grimm. “First, your spell acted precisely as you wished it to. You asked it to send these two to the home dimension of the Young Miss here. And it did. She is, to put it bluntly, a local. This is her home dimension.”

“NO! NO! That’s wrong!” Xander was yelling so loud that everyone had to cover their ears. The stained glass in the windows began to vibrate and warp in their frames.

“CALM YOURSELF!” Moondark leaned over the table and slapped Xander in the face. He shook his hand from the pain of it, but it got Xander’s attention. “Calm yourself. There is good news for you too. It isn’t the good news you want, but there is good news.”

“Yeah? What? You’re full of shit if I believe anything you have to say after that, that, _**horseshit**_ you just dropped all over us!”

Moondark sighed, trying to exude the calm that he wanted the young woman to feel. “The good news is this: you, or rather, the person you think you are but really aren’t, the young man named Alexander Lavelle Harris, is alive and well in his home dimension. I saw him, in the vision bowl, fighting a vampire alongside his friends. He’s still there, and in fact has never left.”

“But. That can’t. It isn’t possible! I’m here! I know who I am! I’m here, not there! How could I be there if I’m here too?”

“Yes, well. Young miss, you are the result of a singular coincidence. You are what happens when you combine an Abstraction with an Artifact. You are unprecedented in the multi-verse, and as such, you break many of the rules of existence. Or rather, you are what the multi-verse did to preserve some of its basic rules of operation.” Moondark stroked Xander’s hair.

“What does that mean?”

“In every dimension in the multi-verse, there is one thing that is distinct about that universe, shared by nothing else in all of creation. In the case of your home dimension, that unique thing is possessing a Xander Harris who is upright, noble, and loyal. The Xanders in all other dimensions that have one are untrustworthy, lazy cretins, who back down from challenges. But not you. Thus, you are the unique abstraction.” The magician took a deep breath. “Then there is Kara Zor-El. She is an artifact, a survivor from of a dimension that is otherwise destroyed. She is the only thing left from her home world.”

Xander took some deep breaths. He couldn’t think straight right now, and this goon in a green suit was saying… “So? So? What does that have to do with me?”

“Abstractions and Artifacts are both eternal constants. The idea of them cannot be destroyed, nor erased, at least not permanently. They will always exist, because they must. The spell this magus Ethan worked created a copy of not one, but two eternal concepts in the multi-verse. When the spell ended, had you not been who you were, you would have gone back to your normal life. Which, my dear, you did. But because the concepts were eternal, the magic couldn’t destroy the copy it had made.”

“So, I’m what, a side effect?” Xander’s expression was getting gloomier and gloomier. A black depression was sneaking over his mind like a blanket. He could feel Louise hugging him, but it didn’t matter, he could feel her physically, but nothing was registering emotionally.

Moondark sighed and stroked Xander’s hair again. It was clear that he wasn’t well practiced at being supportive, but he was trying. “I wouldn’t put it that way. But yes, in a way you are. The magic of the spell couldn’t remove the copy from existence, so it moved you to the closest dimension it could find that had neither a copy of Xander Harris, nor a copy of Kara Zor-El. This dimension, in fact. You were, in effect, born when you first appeared in this world.”

“That’s just –” Xander couldn’t say any more. He just slouched in his chair. Louise moved over and pulled Xander’s head down onto her shoulders. Xander gripped Louise’s hoody and bawled into her neck.

His companions, on the other hands, had different ideas. “Why would Janus have put the copy of Alex’s mind in a female body, and not in his own? Why aren’t we talking to this Kara person?”

Moondark shrugged. “Janus is the god of change. What change would there have been in restoring them to their own bodies.”

“Wait. I think I understand some of that. Most of what you’ve said has gone over my head, but I think I actually caught that last part.” Louise looked up at Moondark. She was stroking Xander’s back, trying to calm him down. “If your guess is correct about why this happened, does that mean that, somewhere, in some other dimension, a copy of Kara’s mind is walking around inside a Xander body?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Moondark stood. “In any case, I must make my goodbyes and get out of town.” He motioned to the cards again. “Sister, my advice is to take cover and do so quickly. Something drastic is coming and it involves our young miss. I know she needs to sort herself out, but she only has so long to do so before it all falls apart.” And with that, he was gone.

“He left his cards.” Louise nodded toward the table.

Sister Grimm leaned over and scanned the array. Then she picked the cards up, and the rest of the deck, and pocketed them. “Cartomancy has never been my thing, but if he says something heavy is coming, then something heavy is coming.”

Louise sighed. “Alex, honey?” She kissed the side of Xander’s head. “Come on, baby, we’ve got to go.”

Xander looked at her through teary eyes. “Is that still me? Am I still Alex? Or am I Kara? Or am I someone else?”

Louise nodded, but didn’t try to answer the question. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

**XxxxxxX**

Louise Fulford glanced back at Alex, who was curled up asleep on the back seat. It seemed to Louise that even when asleep her girlfriend was still terribly stressed. She’d hoped that Alex would be able to relax into sleep, but it just wasn’t happening.

“What do you think we should do?” Louise turned to Nico, whose eyes hadn’t left the road since they started driving again.

“We?”

“Me and Alex. What do you think we should do?”

“Talk to her. Help her through it. She’s got a lot to work through. Might drive her crazy.” In her rearview, a white van was charging up on her bumper. She hated drivers who were like that. Despite having miles of empty lane, they’d rather ride your bumper and get you to switch lanes rather than go around. “Can she get dangerous if she gets crazy?” Louise signaled and changed lanes. She might as well let the van guy be happy.

Louise thought about it. She ran the fight between Marvin and his goons and Alex through her mind a few times. “I – I don’t think Alex would hurt me.” Her voice betrayed her nervousness, though.

“You’re not sure, though?” The van had passed her swiftly, but had then moved into her lane and slowed. “What the hell is this? Come on, asshole, stop playing games. I’m not in the mood.”

The van had slowed even further, and Nico had slowed along with it. Louise glanced at the van in time to watch the door of the van slide up and out of the way. In the doorway stood a tall man in a black costume that seemed covered in a ring design. He looked vaguely familiar, and Louise’s last coherent thought was that she thought she’d seen him on the news once.

Nico started screaming. “Oh fuck! Fuck! Fuck! We’re fucked! Shit!” She jerked the car’s steering wheel to the left, and the car went into a skid. Louise watched the man in the black costume throw something, but was too busy to notice. Nico was trying to shove Louise down into the floor board, or something, but Louise ignored her, dodged her, shoved her away, trying to get into the back seat because Alex was there.

_“ALEX! Wake up!”_

Louise had a split second to breathe with relief as she saw Alex’s eyes open. Her girlfriend began to sit up. It was going to --

But it was too late. A fan of stainless steel rods, each sharpened to a spear-like point, hit the car in an arc. Some hit the body of the vehicle and stuck. One grazed past Sister Grimm’s ear, leaving a bloody crease and knocking the witch out. Two went through to the engine block. One even bounced uselessly off Alex’s body.

And one punched through Louise’s back, just under her right shoulder blade. The car began a slide, but all Louise could see was Alex. The entire world had compressed into a tube, and all she could see was Alex. Alex was leaning forward, toward her. Louise knew Alex could fix this. Louise tried to breath, but it only made her cough. And after her cough, she wondered why Alex’s face was suddenly covered in so much blood. The tube collapsed to a point. When the car started to flip, Louise was already unconscious.

**XxxxxxX**

What woke Xander up was the word “Fuck!” being screamed multiple times. He sat up as he felt the car go into a slide. He could feel by the car’s vibration that something wrong had happened and they were going to crash. Louise was yelling at him, trying to reach him. Sister Grimm was slumped to the left, unconscious and bleeding from the scalp.

Xander moved. Louise’s eyes went wide, then dulled. He got close to her and Louise coughed, and in that cough covered Xander’s face with blood. In one motion, he tore the seat belts from Louise and Nico and pulled them in, close to his body. The car began its roll, and when he felt they were at the apogee of the roll, he leapt.

Xander turned, rolling in the air, and ducked as the ruin of Talkback’s mustang bounced over his head. He rolled again, holding on to the two girls for dear life, and when close enough to do so, planted his feet. He continued to skid almost thirty feet, but stopped long before the corpse of the car did.

He lay Nico down. She was still breathing, and other than a cut above her ear, she seemed fine. He turned to examine Louise. He could tell she was hurt. His hands and shirt were covered by her blood.

“Well look at you. Usually when I kill things, they stay dead.” The voice caused Xander to jerk in surprise. He looked up and met the eyes of a comic book character whose costume he’d remember anywhere.

Bullseye.

Bullseye had attacked them.

“Don’t worry about your BFFS, sweetheart. I wooonnnn’ttt mmmmmmmmmiiiiiiiii --”

Bullseye became a statue. The traffic around them stopped. Xander plucked the two women from the road as gently as he could and rocketed into the air. Behind him, the burst of air caused by his going from a standstill to multiple times the speed of sound knocked the assassin down and rolled him away. The van he’d been riding likewise was knocked over and skidded away. By the time Bullseye picked himself up and dusted himself off, Xander had vanished into the sky.

The landscape blurred around him. All Xander was seeing of it was green brown gray brown green as it flashed past him. The girls were slung on top of one another in his arms. It was hurting them, he knew, but he had no time to waste. He began scanning the landscape ahead of him and altered course, following the signs. In less than three minutes, he’d reached the Emergency Room doors of the medical center at the University of California, San Francisco.

Xander adjusted the girls so that Nico was over his shoulder and Louise was in his arms. He landed and entered the hospital. “Somebody help! Help! They’re hurt!” Several orderlies, two doctors, and a nurse all came running, grabbing gurneys as they came. He put Louise down on her side, seeing the metal rod with which Bullseye had hit her for the first time.”

“What happened?” It was one of the doctors. Xander ignored him until Nico was on another gurney. Both girls were rushed into treatment with other doctors. The first doctor, the one who asked him the question, asked it again.

“Car accident. We were in a car accident. It rolled. Flipped over and over.”

The doctor put an arm on Xander’s waist. “Okay, let’s get you into a room and take a look at you. You could carry your friends in, but people are capable of a lot when they’re upped on adrenaline, and you could be hurt too. Come on.”

“No, doc, thanks, but I’m fine. Just help my friends. I’ve got to go.”

“Look, you could be hurt.”

Xander growled in frustration and put one of his hands through the hospital’s wall. His arm planted into the concrete wall up to his elbow. “Look! Trust me, I’m fine. Help them. None of this is my blood, I promise.”

The doctor’s eyes widened. He looked back and forth, then leaned in. “You’re, uh, you’re a mutant?” Xander stared, then nodded. It was easier than trying to explain. “And I guess you’re, uh, invulnerable?” Xander nodded again. The doctor was silent, then whispered again. “Was this because, um, a bad guy? A villain?”

Xander took a deep breath and then nodded again.

“Okay.” The doc nodded. “Look, you go do what you have to do. I’ll take care of your friends. I’ll even hold off on filing the report until you get back. Okay?”

“Yeah, thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. My, uh, my wife got caught in a crossfire between competing super-villains. I don’t know if you’re the hero who saved her, but I figure I owe somebody something. Go on. We’ll do our best for your friend.

Xander nodded again, and then was gone.

**XxxxxxX**

“I can’t believe she got away from you of all people.” Moonstone said as she supervised Bullseye being restrained on the team’s jet. Behind her, the rest of her team was strapping themselves down. “Especially after you rolled their car.”

Bullseye shrugged. “Yeah, well, no one told me she could teleport. One second she was there, the next, poof, like smoke in the wind.”

“She teleported?” This was the first time Moonstone heard about this happening. “Nothing was in Starr’s file about teleportation. Great. I love incomplete intelligence.” She turned to the flight crew. “Get us spun up. We’re returning to base. We’ll try again when we have a location for her again.” She sat down in her own seat and fastened the seatbelt. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to explaining to Osborn and Gyrich that they’d lost their target, but no one told them she could teleport.

The whine of the engines got loud enough to be heard over the plane’s soundproofing. Moonstone watched through the window as the jet pulled away from the hangar and began taxiing. It was slow, but she knew they’d be in the air shortly. Under their charter, the Thunderbolts got priority at every airport in the country unless there was a declared disaster going on with another plane. In her head, she began composing her formal report to –

There was a loud _**BANG**_ and a hole opened in the fuselage of the plane. The aircraft bent on itself from the impact, and in seconds the plane had acquired a V-like shape. The plane crashed to its belly as the landing gear collapsed. Moonstone stared at the impact point in a panic. Their target was standing on the metal sheet that used to be the outer hull of the plane, and empty seat flattened under her. She had dropped through the hull like a bomb. Their target turned slowly, scanning the occupants of the plane as they scrambled to get clear of the wreckage, taking everyone in.

The first to react was the Swordsman. He was closest to the target, and within the space of a second had one of his sword out and was swinging. At first, the target was dismissive, but yanked herself back as the Swordsman’s blade slashed into the girl’s right shoulder. The target staggered, obviously in pain, and Swordsman advanced for another blow. The girl caught her attacker’s sword-arm with her left, the right arm handing limp. Moonstone heard the girl growl, “That’s enough!” and suddenly Swordsman’s hand was off at the wrist. The girl hadn’t cut the hand off, or even pulled it off, but had simply _squeezed_ the man’s wrist until the flesh and bone separated under the pressure. His magic blade fell, point-first, through the wreckage of the plane to imbed itself in the earth.

Swordsman collapsed to his knees, shrieking at the top of his lungs. The girl flicked a finger into Swordsman’s forehead and the man fell over, silent. Moonstone couldn’t tell if he was dead or merely unconscious. The girl turned again, her eyes falling on each of the Thunderbolts in turn.

There was a sudden loud noise that started when their target’s gaze landed on her and held there. Someone was yelling. It sounded like _OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT!_ When Moonstone finally realized that it was she who was yelling, it surprised her, but she couldn’t seem to stop it. The Thunderbolts field leader scrabbled at her seatbelt, but she couldn’t find the release to make it let her go.

She had to get out. She had to get out. The target was advancing on her, and she had to get out. She finally exerted herself and the entire belt assembly tore from its attachment against the plane. The girl was still approaching, and Moonstone hurriedly thought, _We can’t fight her in the plane! We’ve got to get out!_ She shot upward as hard and as fast as she could, tearing her own hole through the hull of the plane.

She could see Songbird was in the air above her. Penance had bounced away as well, trying to gain maneuvering room. A patch of the plane’s skin glowed green and melted away, and the Radioactive Man stepped through it. Neither Venom nor Bullseye were anywhere to be seen. From the front of the plane came the staccato sound of submachine gun fire. The pilot and copilot. _Idiots!_ Sure, they were former Air Force pilots, but they were still just normal guys. The gunfire died out quickly and abruptly.

The girl crashed through the side of the plane into the open air like she was walking through a thin mist instead of reinforced aluminum hull metal. She stood there, floating some eight or nine feet above the ground, and took in all the remaining Thunderbolts arrayed before her. Her right arm was still hanging uselessly from her ravaged shoulder. Blood had soaked her clothing around the wound.

The first piece of scrap metal came out of nowhere and hit the target in the head. The girl hardly noticed the first two, but the third and fourth came so close to her eyes that she flinched backward. Bullseye appeared out of nowhere, and was flicking shards of scrap metal at her in fistfuls.

Later, when she was writing her report, Moonstone would remember thinking, _He should have run_. The moment he appeared, the Starr girl focused on Bullseye to the exclusion of all else. She ignored everything he threw at her. There was no more flinching. The target seemed to blur toward the assassin, and when Bullseye was in the girl’s reach, the teenager pulled her fist back and punched the assassin in the forehead. Moonstone heard muffled _**POP**_ just before the impact, followed by the sound of metal impacting metal. Bullseye’s corpse, for Moonstone was absolutely sure that the man was dead, was still standing, but his eyes had exploded outward from the pressure of the impact. The muscles in his arms and legs had begun spasming at random.

The girl shook her arm, and Bullseye’s body spun away from her through the air. The assassin’s forehead was caved in, the marks of the girl’s fist clearly visible. Starr had hit Bullseye so hard that the adamantium lining his skull had permanently deformed. Moonstone blinked. _His brain would have liquefied and flash-boiled inside his skull from that much kinetic energy transfer._ Bullseye was down. Permanently down. No one would ever be hurt by him again.

She began yelling out orders. “Songbird, pincer movement with me. Penance, get in close and keep her off balance. Radioactive Man, burn her down. Find something that hurts her.” Where the hell was Venom?

The target – the _thing_ wearing the deceased Karen Starr’s face, whatever it was – this rampaging monster who Osborn and Gyrich sent them against after casually dismissing her defeat of the Avengers as a fluke – this thing was going to kill them all. Somehow, she knew it.

Penance had bounced in and punched the target with as much of a kinetic boost as he could muster. For all his punch was ineffective, the counter attack wasn’t. The girl backhanded Penance, sending him flying like a home run ball, up and out of everyone’s sight. On his outward flight, he struck the edge of the building so hard that, rather than bounce away from it, _crashed through it_!

Moonstone flew around the girl in a loop and began firing self-generated laser beams at her. Songbird looped the opposite way and hit the target with ultrasonics so loud that the tarmac behind the girl began to melt. Radioactive Man poured X-Rays and Gamma Rays into the girl.

Their target just stood there, taking it. The energies they were striking her with were hurting the target as much as if they blew spit wads at her. The girl watched until Moonstone and Songbird passed each other during their loops, took a deep breath, and blew. Both fliers found themselves trapped in a miniature hurricane, covered in rimefrost. Both, thrown off their flight path by the turbulence, crashed into the ground. The girl turned and blurred in front of Radioactive Man. There was another blur and the Chinese agent went limp; the girl's left arm was imbedded in his chest up to the shoulder, and her fist was sticking out of his back, covered in blood and flesh.

Moonstone tried to shake the cobwebs out of her head as she gained her feat. She wasn’t steady, and felt like she’d been concussed. A quick shake of her head. Moonstone realized she lost track of the target and panicked, scrambling backward so fast she tripped and fell to the ground. Near her, Songbird was also climbing to her feet. Without warning, the target was there, standing in front of them, with a look of sheer disgust and hatred in her eyes. It was the girl’s eyes which finally got to Moonstone. She felt her costume go wet and warm at the crotch, and there was the smell of fresh urine. It took Moonstone a moment to realize that her bladder had just released itself out of fear. Nothing for it. Fuck her team. Fuck the mission. She had to escape! She had to get away! She started scrambling backward on her hands and knees.

Songbird inhaled sharply, preparing to scream at the girl, but Starr was faster. She simply poked out at Songbird, catching her in just below the trachea with an extended finger.

“Shush.” It was the only thing the girl had said so far throughout the entire attack. Songbird fell to her knees, holding her neck. Moonstone could see Songbird was still of breathing through her nose, but she wasn’t making any further noise. Songbird's face went white and there was a thin but steady stream of blood dripping from beneath the fingers holding the new hole in her throat closed.

The target – the small functional part of Moonstone’s brain laughed at this descriptor – took a step toward Moonstone, and the Thunderbolt’s team leader closed her eyes and braced for death. Instead, there was a muffled scream. Moonstone opened her eyes to see the Starr girl struggling in the grip of the Venom symbiote. She was trying to pull it away from her face as the rest of her body was being completely engulfed.

Mac Gargan stood behind the girl in his underwear. His “living costume” had peeled off him all the way to just above his wrists, and Gargan was using it as a weapon. It was over quickly. One second the girl was struggling to escape, the next she was completely buried under Venom. She just stood there. There was occasionally a spasm, but the girl beneath the symbiote was motionless.

Moonstone was gasping for air. “You, do you – do you have her? Gargan, is she secure?”

“Yeah. For now. We need the nullifiers.” Gargan said through gritted teeth. “I can’t do this forever.”

“Great.” Moonstone got to her feet, still unsteady, and ran to Songbird. She pulled Songbird’s hands away and looked. There was a huge bruise already spreading, and a dent – a dent! – In Songbird’s throat, and a puncture wound that was bleeding profusely. Not a fatal wound, if it got treated in time, but damn if it wasn’t going to hurt. And Songbird would never sing again. “Wreckage of the plane is spread all over the runway, and I’m supposed to find the nullifiers. Hold on.”

Moonstone entered the wreckage of the plane. Before she began looking for the nullifiers, she put a makeshift tourniquet around Swordsman’s wrist, using the man’s own bootlaces. He was pale and cyanotic, but she had to try.

It took her nearly twenty minutes to find the nullifiers.

As she ran toward Gargan and their prisoner, she could see that the man was sweating. “Get those fucking things on her now. I can’t hold her too much longer.” But even as the man said it, Moonstone knew it was too late. The symbiote had engulfed the girl, and its familiar pattern of eyes and the spider symbol were in its accustomed place on the girl’s body. But the thing’s “eyes” now featured spreading patches of pink. There was a guttural sound, like a gurgle from a drain that came from the symbiote and Gargan screamed in pain.

Without warning, smoking holes burned through the symbiote, and the air was filled with the smell of burning flesh. The girl’s eyes, suddenly visible again, were glowing bright red. Wherever the girl’s eyes fell, things caught fire, starting with the symbiote itself. What the girl couldn’t burn herself free of, she tore. Venom had come close, but in the end had lost. Gargan went down, his skin a mass of carbonization and new burn scars.

Moonstone took to the air. _Fuck fuck fuck!_ She had to get away. She flew as fast as she could, only wanting to put distance between her and the maniac _thing_ that had taken down her team. She hadn't moved ten yards when a vice made of iron clamped itself around one of her ankles. She felt the bones in her leg snap under the pressure of the grip. The vice pulled, and Moonstone fell out of the air so forcefully that it felt like God Himself had suddenly slapped her across the back. Her impact shattered the concrete and tarmac and let a hole ten feet across. And the Starr girl was there, still holding on to her ankle.

Moonstone panicked. “Please, don’t kill me! Don’t kill me! We didn’t mean – We had orders to capture you! Whatever it was that pissed you off, we weren’t going to kill you! Please! I don’t know what happened! Bullseye didn’t tell me!” She was babbling, but couldn't stop.

The girl was quiet, merely staring at Moonstone with those angry eyes.

“Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry –” Starr raised a fist, the same fist that was still covered in Radioactive Man's blood. That had caved in Bullseye's impenetrable skull. The girl raised this incredible weapon of terror over her head.

Moonstone watched the girl take a deep breath, just staring into her opponent's eyes.

“I'm sorry.” Moonstone's voice was weak, but the contrition she felt was real. “I'm so sorry.” It was almost a whisper. She closed her eyes, knowing that at least the death that Starr planned for her would be quick.

“Bullseye put two innocent bystanders in the emergency room, trying to capture me.” The girl finally spoke. Moonstone opened her eyes and found herself no longer under the girl's fist. “Your pet psychopath Bullseye engineered a car accident that almost killed two innocent people, and could have killed more people had the car accident spread to the rest of traffic.”

She stood and put a booted foot on Moonstone’s chest. Then she reached down, and with a flick of her finger pulled Moonstone’s helmet from her head. “Now, who do you work for?”

“Osborn. Gyrich.”

The girl looked puzzled. “Wait, Harry Osborn?”

“N—no. Nor—Norman. Norman.”

“Norman Osborn? The Green Goblin? That Norman Osborn?”

Moonstone nodded. She had no idea what the girl was talking about, but at this point Moonstone was willing to agree to anything. If the girl wanted to accuse Norman Osborn of being the Green Goblin, then far be it from her to disagree. Hell, at this point Starr could claim to be the Emperor of Mars and get agreement.

“What genius at the government gave the Green Goblin control over a villain team?” Moonstone didn’t have an answer for that. “Never mind. You said Gyrich. Henry Peter Gyrich? The guy who was involved with the Sentinels project?” Again, Moonstone nodded.

“Anyone else?” A shake of the head. “Okay. Now then. I ought to kill you, but I’m not going to.” The Starr girl stared into Moonstone’s eyes. The anger had turned into a dull sheen that was even more frightening than the rage. “You’re the bad guy in the movie who the action hero doesn't consider important enough to kill. You're the guy who gets to stay alive and relatively unharmed, because the action hero – that's me – needs him to carry a message back to the people behind it all. That's Norman Osborn and Henry Gyrich. Think you can do that? Or should I just pop your head like a grape?” The girl leaned in, putting pressure on Moonstone's chest.

She barely managed to nod. The air just wasn’t there. Moonstone could breathe, but only just. The pressure the girl was putting on her chest was almost enough to cause her ribs to snap, but only almost. She was breathing in short sips. Then she felt the slap. “No, stay with me, Moonstone. You don’t get to fall unconscious yet.” Moonstone’s eyes grew wide. “Yeah, I know who you are. Your message is simple. I want you to point out to your bosses that I could have slaughtered all of you. All of you. Even the two jerks with the machine guns. With the single exception of yourself, the only people here I killed were the people I knew absolutely were murderers. I even left Eddie Brock over there alive when I killed the Venom symbiote.” The vague thought that the girl wasn’t up to the times flickered through her head. But the Starr girl was speaking again. “Tell your bosses to leave me alone, or the next time I’ll visit them in person. I don’t want to fight. I’m not robbing banks and I’m not hurting anyone. Leave. Me. Alone.”

The pressure on her chest increased. _No, please! Just a little more air! Please! I promise, I’ll be a good girl! I’ll stop! No more fights! I’ll go straight! I’ll – I’ll -- I’ll teach Middle School science in Iowa! Please, just a little more air!_

And then there was nothing but blackness.

It came as a pleasant surprise to Moonstone – no, she needed to stop thinking of herself as Moonstone. When she awoke in a military hospital, five hours later, Karla Sofen was pleasantly surprised.

She spent an hour planning how to register her teaching credentials in Iowa. It had only taken her twenty minutes to find a county that needed science teachers at their middle schools.

**XxxxxxX**

“Hey, Alex. We were looking for you.”

Xan… no… well, he – she – wasn’t sure anymore. _What the hell do you call yourself when you find out that you are not the person you thought you were? For now, Alex would work. He – No. I’m not Xander Harris, and I’m not Kara Zor-El. I’m not a guy turned into a girl. I’m a girl with a guy floating around in her head. Better get used to it._ She cringed, honestly in pain. The stomach cramps had come out of nowhere. At least her shoulder had stopped bleeding. _Shit, that hurt._ The body had becoming more and more comfortable, but it had betrayed her. _And why the fuck did I forget that Swordsman had a magic blade?_

She -- she decided to make a concerted effort to call herself that, and to stop thinking of herself as 'Xander'; she was going to be Alex from now on, Alexandra. She hadn’t decided on a last name, but was honestly considering Zorel, or maybe Zorrel, as a nod to her other half. Or maybe she'd just stick with Harris. Alex looked over her shoulder at Talkback. “I’ve been up here, thinking and trying to deal. It, uh, been a shit day.”

“Tell me about it. You guys killed my car. I loved that car. It was going to be so cherry when I got done with it. No idea what I’m going to do now.” Talkback was smiling when he said this. He had been ribbing her about the car since she got back from the fight. It might have been irritating, but it got Alex smiling, so Chase figured it was a good thing.

Alex turned back toward the Pacific Ocean. On the one hand, her memories told her it was just the same old ocean, she’d seen it a thousand times before. But not really. She was less than a year old, and this was the first time she’d watched the Pacific roll in and out. She had to admit, though, that the roof of the UCSF Medical Center was a good spot to just sit and think all day.

Talkback – who now insisted that Xander call him Chase – held a hand out and helped Alex to her feet. “Nico woke up. She’s asking about you and Louise. I figured you might want to talk to her. Give her the news.”

“Sure.” She dusted her hands off, and her ass, and gave herself a quick once-over. Alex grimaced. Her shirt was still blood-stained, but at least she’d been able to wash her hands and face. “I need some new clothes. And a shower.”

“I know how you feel. Me too. I feel like my eyes are boiled right now.” He pulled the rooftop access door open for her. “C’mon. You can go tell Nico about what happened with the Thunderbolts, and then give her the good news about Louise. Maybe figure out what we’re all going to do from here.”

“We?” Alex gave him a weird look.

“Hey, you saved Nick’s life. Killed my car, but you saved her life. As far as I’m concerned, you’re family.”

That caused Alex to smile. It was the first time she’d smiled in a while. She still needed to work out her shit, and who the fuck she was supposed to be, and what she was going to be doing with Louise, and how she was going to keep the fucking cops and the Avengers off her, but she figured having one new friend was a good thing.

Alex winced as the cramps shot another wave of pain shot through her. She tried to hide it and nearly stumbled, and Chase noticed.

"You okay?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

"Your shoulder?"

She glanced at him and shrugged again. "Uh, no. Not exactly. I mean, my shoulder hurts, yeah, but. Um. I, uh, I think I'm getting my period."

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything in this chapter, starting from the phrase “Louise Fulford glanced back at Alex...,” and ending with “…five hours later.” was written with “The Suicide Mission”, by Jack Wall and the London Philharmonic Orchestra, from the soundtrack of _Mass Effect 2_ , playing in the background on constant repeat. If you ever need to write something that involves a desperate struggle between life and death, righteous fury, and a roaring rampage of revenge, I heartily suggest this piece of music.
> 
>  
> 
> Regarding the page quote. No, it’s not a quote from the Bible. and no, I am not misattributing it. Even though, in _Pulp Fiction_ , Jules Winfield claims he is quoting Ezekiel 25:17, the actual Ezekiel 25:17 reads _“I will carry out great vengeance on them and punish them in my wrath. Then they will know that I am the LORD, when I take vengeance on them.”_ So, you see, the quote from _Pulp Fiction_ isn't from the Bible at all.
> 
>  
> 
> For those who are unfamiliar with it, the Magic Castle in Los Angeles is a private club whose members are all professional stage magicians. The first floor of the Magic Castle is open to the public, and features a restaurant, a gift shop, art galleries, a museum of classic magic tricks, and several different performing spaces, including a full-sized theater. Many famous and up-and-coming magicians regularly spend time at the Magic Castle, and they are generally delighted to show off their routines for the tourists on demand. The upper floors of the club are only open to members, their families, and their guests, and include a private library, several conference rooms, a private dining room, and even a couple of hotel rooms that members can rent in the short term if they need accommodations while they're in Los Angeles. The Magic Castle also houses one of the largest collections of stage magic memorabilia, and is a tribute to the art of stage magic.
> 
> After my first performance as a stage magician, when I was 11, my grandfather bought me a membership and I've been a member ever since even though I retired as a performing magician after High School. Before the car accident that disabled me, I would often make a point of going to the Magic Castle whenever I was in Los Angeles and doing a quick card routine, a mentalist routine, a cup and balls trick, or even the occasional clack-clack routine (a series of coin tricks) for any tourists that are visiting that day. Even though I can no longer do these tricks, I still love stage magic.
> 
> And yes, up until the day he died, Ray Bradbury was also a member of the Magic Castle. In addition to being one of the greatest writers of the last hundred years, he was also a talented amateur magician. He was a kind and supportive man, and I am proud to have been able to know him, if only in the context of the Magic Castle.


	14. Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“I don’t suppose it’s worth the price -- the price that I would pay. But I’m thinking it over, anyway.” – **Duncan Sheik** , “Barely Breathing”_

**XxxxxxX**

Phil Coulson swallowed the Excedrin tablet dry. He knew that it was his third in as many hours, and that if he took more he was risking permanent liver damage, but so far it was the only way to get the headache to abate.

“What do you mean you have no idea where she is? I don’t care! Listen, you low-rent piss-ant, if you don’t have her report to me by the end of business today, you’re going to be scrubbing toilets in McMurdo by end of business tomorrow. Do I make myself clear, General? Good!”

The cause of Coulson’s headaches, on the other hand…

Coulson sighed in relief as Norman Osborn stormed off rather than take his frustrations out on the nearest human being. Moonstone’s ‘resignation’ the night before had been singular, and it could not be interpreted as anything else but a resignation. Not only had Doctor Sofer disappeared into the ether, she had left the moonstone – the object that had given her super-powers – on Gyrich’s desk. It had been wrapped in a note that read 'Fuck you, I’m done.' Coulson had to hand it to the lady, she knew how to make an exit. But ever since, Osborn had been a little zealous about returning her to service.

At least Moonstone had been courteous enough to file a report about the incident before she walked away.

Coulson stood there. Taking it all in. To anyone who didn’t know him, he would appear to simply be daydreaming. But he was thinking, considering all the angles. His ability to put pictures together from small clues was one of the reasons he was such an effective agent. The recordings from the airbase’s security cameras was being reviewed, and a comprehensive timeline for the attack was being assembled. He’d seen part of it, and would no doubt be reviewing the rest of it later. As one of SHIELD's Senior Supervisory Agents, he’d naturally been briefed in on Karen Starr’s escape from custody, as well as the revelation that the person they’d held for eight months wasn’t Karen Starr at all. Karen Starr had been dead for nearly two years, murdered by her pedophile rapist father. He had read the profiler’s analysis of her behavioral patterns. But there was something puzzling about it all.

_What spurred this attack? Why now?_ He asked himself. _Up until now, the only record of violence from Karen Starr –_ he’d decided to just go ahead and keep the easy reference – _had been defensive in nature. She was attacked first, and only after being attacked did she fight in self-defense. This wasn’t self-defense. This was intentional and if not premeditated, it was methodical at least._

_So, let’s review what happened._ He turned, scanning the area with his eyes, starting with the Thunderbolts’ now-wrecked aircraft. He stared at it. Stared some more. Stared a little more. Then he got it. “Ah. Right.”

“Sorry, sir?” One of the nearby agents asked him.

“Nothing. Just figuring something out.”

_No, it fits the profile after all. The attack didn’t start here, did it? Out on the freeway, they sent Bullseye in first, naturally, with the rest of the Thunderbolts probably in support positions in case the first strike didn’t cause the appropriate shock and awe._ He grimaced. _What was Sofer thinking? We have it on record from Samson that the Starr girl had a heightened sense of loyalty and protectiveness toward her friends. Moonstone said that there were apparently two female bystanders caught in the attack. According to what Bullseye told Moonstone before he was killed, Starr was acting 'lovey-dovey' with them. Were they friends? Lovers, perhaps? Of course they were. One or the other, it doesn’t matter. The fact that her friends or perhaps lovers died in the attack would have spurred the retribution._

And of course, Coulson was certain the bystanders had been killed. This was Bullseye, after all. Coulson rolled that over in his head for a while. _This just gets better and better. So, Bullseye attacks, and her friends – and one or both might have been more than friends -- get caught in the crossfire and are killed. So, she leaves with the bodies. Bullseye told Moonstone she teleported. She would want to deposit the bodies of her friends somewhere safe._

“Agent Harker!” Coulson motioned one of his senior agents over. “I want you to check with every hospital in town. Check all the emergency rooms. We’re looking for two young women, between say sixteen and twenty, with either stab wounds, injuries consistent with a car accident., or both Check all the emergency rooms in the city; don’t just stop at the first one you find. Oh, and just in case, do the same thing with the city morgue and every mortuary in Los Angeles.”

_She deposits the bodies somewhere for safe keeping. Then she returns to the scene of the attack. But by then the Thunderbolts are gone. They’ve withdrawn back to the base and had only begun to get themselves ready to RTB. How did she track them down? Heightened senses of some kind? Telepathy? Who knows? Irrelevant. She tracked the team back to the airfield._ He returned his stare to the wreckage of the plane. _And now it makes sense. This was not a desperate criminal trying to get the law off her back._ His eyes shifted to Osborn, who was screaming at some of the agents to 'hurry up and do your god damned jobs already.' _This was vengeance for the death of her friends._

The girl’s attack had been methodical, for all that it screamed its origins in outrage and anger. The fact that Starr had destroyed the plane while it was on the ground, and did so in a way that hadn’t released any of the jet’s fuel, told Coulson that Starr had the safety of innocent bystanders in mind. It would have been just as easy for Starr to have turned the plane into a bomb. But that would have taken out the terminal and would have endangered people not involved in the attack.

_She takes out Swordsman first, probably because he’s closest to her when she enters the plane and because Swordsman injures her. Which raises a question. Why didn’t she kill the man who just cut her open with a sword? I mean, yeah, he’s permanently disabled and won’t be climbing back into the tights any time soon, but at least he’s alive. So why not kill him? Or the two Air Force officers flying the plane? Or Songbird? Or Penance? Only Bullseye, Radioactive Man, and Venom were killed. And given that Gargan was alive when she left the scene, she might not have meant to kill him. Songbird came close to dying, but again, it wasn't an automatically fatal wound. Only Bullseye and the Radioactive Man were treated to a dose of lethal violence. Well, them and the Venom symbiote. All the others were injured seriously enough to disable them, but the attack left them alive._

He checked his watch. The forensics investigators had managed to get a pair of partial prints. One came from the indention in Bullseye’s skull, while another was on the barrel of one of the submachine guns the flight crew had been issued. The second print, the one on the barrel of the weapon, had been pressed so hard it was now a permanent etching in the gunmetal. _How hard do you have to squeeze a gun’s barrel to leave fingerprints etched into in the metal?_ He wondered.

“Agent Coulson.” Coulson turned as the lead agent on the cleanup crew approached. “We’re about ready, we’ve retrieved as much of it as we can, I think. We’ve gone over the area with a fine-toothed comb and if there’s any more of the symbiote around, we’re not going to find it.”

Coulson nodded. “That’s fine, Agent Ho. What’s the condition of the symbiote?”

“Condition? Carbonized. We’ve detected no biological activity in any piece we retrieved.” Agent Ho was a tall, impressive looking man whose ancestors were Finnish. The first and only time Coulson had ever asked about the Asian surname, Ho had explained that when his great-grandfather came to the country, the intake agent at Ellis Island couldn’t spell Holiskanavvi, so he’d unilaterally shortened it to Ho. His great-grandfather had apparently decided that a new name was the price of becoming an American and stuck with it. “I’m going to say in my report that the symbiote is now a series of variously sized charcoal briquettes that have no further use as anything but barbecue supplies.”

“Understood. Thank you, Agent Ho. Where is the other team regarding the Radioactive Man’s body?”

“They've got him sealed in a lead-lined box. They’re also making sure that there’s no dangerous levels of contamination surrounding the spot where he was killed.” Agent Ho pointed to where a second group of hazmat-clad agents were working to clean up the blood spilled from the radioactive villain.

“And the sword?” Coulson could see Normal Osborn standing over the hilt, but asked anyway. Osborn wasn’t waiting for reports. He was doing the only thing he knew how to do: rant and rave at the people who worked below him.

“It’s not going anywhere.” Ho shrugged. “I'm not sure why, but no one can pull it out of the ground.”

Coulson nodded. This was a waste of time. He didn’t need to be here, and Osborn certainly didn’t need to be down here. So, the question was, why were they both down here? He sighed again. “Okay, wrap it up. I’ll take care of Osborn.”

**XxxxxxX**

“Steve?” Sue Richards stuck her head into the room he’d claimed as his personal space. “We just got sent something from that contact of yours in SHIELD. You’ll want to watch this.”

Steve Rogers, Captain America, marked his place in the book with a folded scrap of paper and rose to follow. He’d always been an aficionado of Abraham Lincoln, and _Team of Rivals_ was shaping up to be a fascinating study of the 16th President’s administration. But duty called.

“Okay, Sue, what do you have?” He strode into the secret base’s command center, and he knew it. He couldn’t help it. Ever since that day back in 1942, he couldn’t just walk anyway. He strode.

“Security camera footage, sent through the usual cut-outs and back channels. Came from an airbase outside of Los Angeles.” The Invisible Woman tapped a couple of keys on her computer, and the footage started spooling up onscreen. Rogers watched the destruction of the Thunderbolts, first from one camera angle, then another, then a third.

“Who is this girl?” Cap reached forward and tapped in a command. The footage replayed. “Obviously powerful. We’re going to have to do something about her.”

“Yeah, I’d love to recruit her,” Sue said. Her eyes were glued to the monitor. “She’s got to be at least as strong as Carol Danvers, given the way she tore that plane apart. She is shrugging off attacks from Moonstone and the Radioactive Man, so she’s tough. And look at this part, where she sort of blurs forward. She has got to be moving as quickly as Quicksilver. Plus, there’s whatever she did to Venom.”

“Recruit her? Sue, she’s a murderer! A brutal one at that! Did you see what she did to Radioactive Man?”

“Yes, Steve, I saw. I also saw that she didn’t kill everyone on the team. I’m not sure about her motives and I’m not comfortable with her killing people, but have you considered that she might have good reasons? You were a soldier, you know that sometimes you must kill people to accomplish the mission. We need to figure out what her mission is.” Sue was quiet. “We need to have people on the scene. So, who do we send to Los Angeles?”

“Hold off. I want to get in touch with some people we have inside, get more information on the girl.” Captain America closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. The headache was almost constant now. “If this was a one-time aberration, we can work with it. But if she’s violent by nature, well, we may have to step in and help put her down. We can’t let menaces just walk away free.”

Sue Richards stared at him for a moment. “This from the man who recruited the Punisher to help with the cause?” she asked, smugly.

“And who fired him the moment he crossed the line.” Cap stared at the screen as the footage began again. “Once we get solid intel on her, we’ll put something into motion. And it will give the local scene enough time for the situation to cool down. You’ve got to know that SHIELD has invaded Los Angeles in force right now. They’re going to be combing LA for any signs of her.”

“You don’t think she’d be dumb enough to stick around Los Angeles, do you?” Sue tapped the control, shutting off the video.

“I think she’s too powerful to care. Let me make some calls and see what people know about her. Even if she’s someone we don’t want on our team, she’s someone we’re going to have to deal with eventually. And start putting together a roster; if we’re going to send people to LA, let’s make sure they can handle this kid.” And with that, he walked back to his office.

Sue turned back to the monitor and watched the fight again. “Kid. Nice to see you remember that she’s just a kid, Steve,” she said to no one. “Just a kid. I’d bet my last dollar that she’s being hounded. Someone needs to find her and help her.” Just that quickly, she had decided to help the girl. Sue picked up the phone, and as she punched the numbers, she hoped that her old friend was still talking to her. They hadn’t exactly parted under the best of circumstances.

The number rang. Then rang again. Then a third time. The ringtone sounded odd, but then this was an international call. Phones in Europe always sounded odd when you were calling them.

_“Yeah?”_ Susan Storm Richards closed her eyes at the sound of the voice on the other end.

“Ben? It’s Sue. I know I’ve got no right to ask you for a favor, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

**XxxxxxX**

The first thing Norman Osborn saw when he returned to his office in Washington was Tony Stark sitting in front of his desk, reading a file that was clearly marked EYES ONLY. The bastard was sitting in an over-complicated, high tech wheelchair, injured leg stuck out in front of him like a lance. And he was dressed in cut-off shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. It was what was on the t-shirt that really got Osborn’s goat: it was a printed picture of Spider-Man punching out the Green Goblin.

Stark had returned his smirk with a glare. “So, Norman. Your secretary called my secretary and there was this thing and you requested a meeting, so here I am.”

“I requested a meeting with you two days ago, Stark.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy. What can I do for you today, Norman?”

Osborn fumed. “I assume you’ve seen the reports of what that – that _thing_ your people allowed to escape did to the Thunderbolts?”

Stark stopped smirking, but retained the sarcasm. “I have, in fact. Got to tell you, I think you pushed the wrong button when it came to her, Norman. Apparently, she has a temper. Who knew, right?” He dropped the careless demeanor. “You really screwed the pooch on that one, Norman. What the hell were you thinking, sending your wrecking crew after that girl? “Bull in a china shop doesn’t even begin to cover this situation.”

“If you and your people had done their jobs, we’d have had that _thing_ under control by now. But no, you bleeding heart soft-headed – “

“Why do you call her a thing, Norman?” Stark interrupted.

“What?”

“Why. Do. You. Call. Her. A. Thing.” Stark spoke slowly, as if to a four-year old. He grinned when he was done, then caught himself and added, “Norman?”

“What else should I call her? She’s not human, we know that. She’s certainly not Karen Starr, we have the body proving that much. She’s a thing. A rampaging monster.

Stark just stared at the other man, open-mouthed. “Really?” He shook his head in disgust. “No wonder your wife left you. Norman,” he began, abruptly shifting tacks. It was one of his usual conversational styles, and served to keep the other person off-balance. “Has it ever occurred to you that if we – the government, that is – had treated this girl as if she was just what she was, a teenaged girl, that maybe we wouldn’t be here talking about how badly you fucked things up for all of us?”

“Now wait a damned minute!” Osborn blustered. “It’s not my – “

“Of course it isn’t, Norman. Of course not. It’s not your fault at all. She’s somewhere in the top levels of the Omega classification, and we all know how hard they are to handle. But what is your fault – it is your fault that you sent your team into a dangerous situation without properly preparing them, advising them, or warning them of the threat. And so, it is your fault, in a way, that Bullseye, Venom, and the Radioactive Man were killed.”

Osborn went to his sideboard and poured a double brandy. He started to offer Stark a drink, and then remembered who it was he was offering to. Osborn downed half the glass in a gulp, then sat behind the desk.

“I’ve already ordered SHIELD into Los Angeles. They’re already scouring the city for the girl. I’m sure they’ll find her by the end of today or tomorrow.” Osborn took another sip of his brandy.”

“Yeah, about that, you do realize you don’t have authority to order SHIELD to do anything, right? The only reason I approved the order was because I know that they aren’t going to find anything in Los Angeles.” Stark closed the file he’d been reading and tossed it back into the man’s in-box.

“Wait! The only reason you approved – you’d have hampered a search for a suspect we know to be dangerous? What possible reason would you have to --?”

“Nothing you don’t know also, Norman. I’m just smarter than you are. The girl can apparently fly faster than most jet fighters. In addition, she seems to have a decent head on her shoulders. Why in the world would she ever stick around LA if, one, she could soon reach any point on the globe in a couple of minutes and, two, knew that we’d be coming for her and, three, knew that the first thing we’d do is flood the entire Los Angeles Basin with SHIELD agents whose sole mission was to look for her?” The smirk was back, and it just set Osborn off again. But then Stark knew that, and Osborn knew that he knew that.

“You can’t – “But Stark interrupted again.

“Now, granted, if this was a television action show, she’d come up with some crazy plan about how no one would think to look for her in LA because everybody expects her to be there. But that’s just stupid and ignores how real investigations work. I’m thinking she’s probably somewhere in Central America by now. Costa Rica is nice this year. They have great food, love the tourist dollars, have a rocking night life, and the surfing is amazing. Not to mention nationalized health care that would just love to patch up the two women who were injured in Bullseye’s attack.” Stark glared at Osborn. “You remember those women? The ones who weren’t the target, and who were reportedly seriously injured? Those two? The innocent bystanders you endangered?”

“They were aiding and abetting. That makes them suspects, not bystanders.”

_“I DON’T FUCKING CARE, NORMAN!”_ Stark leaned into Osborn’s face. “You don’t try and harness a raging psychopath like Bullseye, someone who doesn’t give a shit about anyone, who doesn’t give a damn about collateral damage. You just don’t! He was always a viper in your midst and sooner or later you should have expected him to bite you in the ass! Well congratulations, he bit you, big time!” Stark took a deep breath. “So far, you’ve been good about keeping the fact that you’re employing serial killers to do your dirty work, but this attack? It’s going to get out, and when it does your ass won’t be worth a plug nickel in Washington.”

“You want to let a murderer who killed federal agents go?”

“Oh, are trying to tell me that they were actually Federal agents now? I thought that official policy made them civilian contractors. That way the white-haired old men in Washington could deny they were ever a part of the government system.”

“They were valuable assets.” Osborn waved a hand, trying to dismiss the issue. “In any case, they were only doing their job. They’re legally covered job, as ordered by legally constituted government agencies.”

Stark was quiet for a long time. He wasn’t a bleeding-heart liberal, and he supported the death penalty for a reason. “Bullseye never should have been on your team. He should have had someone stick a needle in his arm decades ago. And the Radioactive Man? I forget, Norman – just when did he stop being an active espionage agent employed by the People’s Republic of China to spy on the United States?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Right. And the fact that each of these men, themselves, had individual body counts measured in the high double, if not triple digits?

“That’s not the point and you know it!” Osborn collapsed into his chair. He’d gone from outraged too tired in one sentence.

“No, it’s not the point. The point is, you went in and hit a hornet’s nest with a baseball bat. And because of that, this kid’s now going to be wanted for murder because she killed three psychopaths who were, themselves, mass murderers. Congratulations, Norman. You sent a serial killer to bring her in, and now because of your own negligence, she’s going to be wanted for murder herself. I hope you’re able to sleep well tonight.”

“I assure you, Mr. Stark, I’ll sleep like a baby.” Osborn returned Stark’s smirk.

“I think the best plan is to get her to turn herself in. I don’t think there’s a power on this earth capable of reigning Karen Starr in if she doesn’t want to be reigned.” Stark stretched in his chair.

“She’s not indestructible. She was cut by the sword.”

Stark nodded. “Yes, she was. So, got any more magic swords lying around?”

“No. But word has it that Reed Richards has Project Ragnarok up and running again.” Again, Osborn’s smirk matched Stark’s.

But Stark wasn’t smiling any longer. “She was defending herself, Norman! If you send that, that abomination after her –”

“She left the scene and came back. That’s not self-defense.” Osborn took another sip of his brandy, only to find the glass was empty. He stood and refilled it, ignoring Stark’s raised eyebrow at the fact that the man was drinking that hard in the middle of the business day.

Stark shook his head. “You’re wrong, Norman. I’m sure an argument could be made for diminished capacity. I’ve seen the tapes. All of them. Even the traffic camera footage and the footage from the drones you had monitoring the area.”

“Yes, well. We’ll see if she gets the chance to make that case in court, I suppose.”

**XxxxxxX**

Alex shifted in her seat next to Nico’s bed for the third time, feeling a little squidgy. If she had her way, she’d be sitting next to Louise in recovery, but they kept a tight lid on visitors in recovery, since the patients were still coming back from surgery. Nico was in observation, so things were a lot more relaxed. She fidgeted again. It was uncomfortable. Alex was certain that she’d eventually get used to the damned things, but for now she was acutely aware of the fact that she had an absorbent cotton bundle shoved up inside of her. And the string was itching her up against the skin of her thigh. And she was still cramping.

The morning after her fight with the Thunderbolts, Alex had tracked down the emergency room doctor who’d been so nice to her and explained the problem. At first, he scoffed at the idea of a seventeen-year-old girl who had never had a period. Alex tried to blame her powers, giving the doctor a rambling half-baked explanation, but eventually the doctor had just shrugged. In the end, he helped Alex out because Alex needed the help. The hour or so that followed was utterly embarrassing, but Alex forced herself to sit through it. It was half biology class, half how-to lecture. She’d have to live with being female, no matter what her memories told her, and this was just a natural part of being female. It wasn’t embarrassing or disgusting, it just was. And Alex knew that if she repeated that to herself enough times, she might come to believe it.

That was yesterday. Things hadn’t become any easier. Damned overactive sense of touch. Damned doctor telling her that she wouldn’t feel it once it was in place.

“– Efforts to find you.” Nico had been speaking, and Alex realized that she’d missed everything that Nico had said due to ruminations about a fucking tampon. And then that realization caused her to blush.

“You doing all right, Alex?” Nico asked.

Alex could tell that she’d noticed the blush, and the fact that Alex hadn’t been paying attention. “Sorry. Sorry. Just thinking, that’s all. I’m sorry, I completely missed what you were saying.” The other woman stared at Alex for a moment. It made Alex a bit uncomfortable, and she shifted in her seat again. “I, just. It’s.” Alex stopped and fumed for a moment. Her frustration had come out of nowhere. “God, is it always like this?”

Nico’s eyebrows met, confusion in her eyes. Then they relaxed. “Ah.”

“Ah? What the hell do you mean by ah?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

But then Nico was laughing. Laughing at her. Oh sure, Nico was trying to keep it under control, but she was still laughing and it just made Alex more frustrated. “Just, tell me what you said, okay?”

Nico stifled her laughter. “I’m sorry, Alex. I shouldn’t have laughed. I know how hard this is for you. You’re like a boiling soup made of hormones right now. Don’t worry, we all go through it. The only time it’s worse is when a girl’s pregnant.” She took another moment to collect herself, and said, “I was saying that we’re going to have to find a way for you to hide from the government, because they’re going to be doubling up on their efforts to find you. But if the guys you killed were working for the government – and hey, they were in an Air Force jet on an Air Force base, right? – then you could be charged with murdering federal agents.”

Alex snorted. “That’s funny. Bullseye, a federal agent. Or Venom? Hell, the Radioactive Man is a Chinese spy for fuck’s sake. Why would the government employ him as an agent? No. I killed three people, but they were all multiple murderers. I didn’t kill anyone who hadn’t already killed lots of people. And I’d do it again.” Alex was yelling, and every rigid surface in the room was vibrating because of it.

Molly stuck her head in the room, a confused look on her face. Nico waved toward the door, and the girl withdrew and shut the door. The two stared at each other for a moment.

“Look, Alex, I know. I know. I know. And I’m behind you. I mean, you saved my life, so how could I not have your back about this, right? I owe you for that, and when I get out of this bed, I’ll do my best to give you a little back for that. I can’t pay my debt to you all the way, but I’ll do my best to do you a major.” Alex started to speak, but Nico held a hand up. “You put murderers out of our misery, and Lord knows no one will be mourning Bullseye any time soon. I’m just saying things are going to get hard for you now.”

Alex sighed. “Yeah, I sort of got that. They’re going to be coming for me even harder. But I can’t just fly off, you know? Not with Louise still here.”

“Look, it’ll be okay.” Nico held a hand out. Eventually, Alex stood and took it. “I think I can do something for Louise when they finally let me out of bed. And then we’ll help you get away. You’ll need to go somewhere they won’t think to find you, like Belgium, or Brazil, or Japan, or Australia or someplace like that. Some place not run by military assholes who think superhumans should be slaves of the establishment.”

“I don’t think I can hide out in some other country.”

“Come on, Alex. Think about it, okay? I mean, seriously, think about it. If you stay here you’re just making it easier for them to find you.”

“Yeah, well – I get going some other place. I get it.” Alex shook her head. “But I don’t want to run to some other country. I’m not – I don’t – how will I get by in another country? I mean, sure, here I’m living on the streets in an old abandoned school bus and scrounging for meals and clothes, but at least I know my way around, right? I know how to work it here. What would I do if I was in the same situation, but stuck in, I don’t know, Bulgaria or someplace?”

“Go someplace where they speak English. Canada, or Australia. Hell, South Africa, even.”

“Most of the places where they speak English would turn me over to the government the moment someone found out about me,” Alex responded. She sounded gloomy, even to herself. “And South Africa has the same sort of problem as the non-English countries. I mean, sure, they speak the language, but Africa? Africa’s different. Says so in all the travel shows I’ve seen. Be a cool place to visit, sure, but I wouldn’t want to try and make a living of it as a homeless kid.”

“Besides – and I know this is going to sound corny – but I can’t let them run me out of my own country. I’m an American. Or, you know, I think I’m an American. My memories tell me I’m an American. It’s my home. I shouldn’t have to run from it.” Alex was again beginning to get loud. “I don’t want to see this country be that. Be a place I’d have to run from. That’s not the America I learned about in civics class.”

Nico was silent, staring as Alex calmed down. “I really don’t like bringing this up, _Xander_ , but you were never actually in a civics class, remember?”

Alex almost jumped to her feet. She opened her mouth to yell something, anything hurtful at Nico. She’d spent most of last night telling the older girl about her past, and about meeting Louise, and about everything. And Nico had accepted it and forgiven it and told her that she was still a real person, no matter what. To have it thrown back in her face – the fact that she was just a copy of – “Fuck you!” Alex whispered. “Fuck you. I – I trusted – you said.” She had to get out. She had to get far away. Alex stepped to the door, but was brought up short by Nico’s next words.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just had to get you to see my point and I didn’t know how. This isn’t Sunnydale, and the country your memories say you grew up in doesn’t exist here. This isn’t going to be easy, but I want to help you. You’re my friend.”

Alex just stood there, silent. And then she began to sob. Deep, wrenching breaths. The stress of the last two days had finally broken through. Bullseye almost killing Louise and Nico. _Louise coughing up blood._ The fight with the Thunderbolts. Becoming a murderer. The realization that the government was going to be chasing her for a long, long time. _Louise still being unconscious._ The knowledge that she wasn’t a guy turned into a woman, but a woman who thought she was a guy. The realization that her friends were well and truly lost to her. _Louise almost dying._ The lack of any sort of stability in her life. It finally just broke through. She wasn’t sure just when she stopped crying, she found herself being held by Molly of all people. Cradled like a baby by a girl half her height. Nico had climbed out of bed and was gently rubbing her back. Chase was kneeling in front of Alex, holding one of Alex’s hands. For a moment, Alex was confused, as she didn’t remember getting into this position at all.

“You going to be okay now?” Molly hugged her.

Alex just nodded and wiped at her eyes.

“Hey.” Alex looked up at Nico. “It’s okay. Anybody who went through what you did, its natural they’d be all stressed out like that. You’re tired and you’re scared and you’re coming to terms with the entire ‘who am I’ thing. We get that. We just want to help you, okay?”

Again, Alex just nodded.

“Okay. Well, how about you go down and see Louise and let her know you’re there and try and calm down some. Go see your girlfriend. I know you’re worried about her.”

Alex nodded again. Molly set Alex on her feet. “You’re a good hugger, Alex. I like hugging you. You’re tough enough to take one of my big hugs, and not many people can do that.”

That caused a smile. “Thanks, Molls.” Alex said. “Where’s your hat?” The girl had come in with a bright orange top hat that matched the athletic jersey Molly had on, but there was no sign of it anywhere.

“Fell off. It’s on the floor behind me.” Molly shrugged. “Figured helping you was more important than maintaining my status as a fashion innovator.”

“Oh definitely.” Alex laughed again. “Okay, guys, I’m going down to recovery. Anything you want me to bring back?”

“Naw, ‘m good.” Chase said as he stood and stretched. “Oh, hey, we’ll try and hash out some ideas for you, you know, about where to hide out and the best way to get there. Maybe we can figure out how to get you a car or an RV or something and you can drive to Canada or something.”

“Yeah, that would be cool.” Xander stepped out into the hall, closing Nico’s door behind her. A tall blonde dressed in blue denim was sitting in a chair across the hall, reading a copy of _People_ magazine. She reminded Alex of Buffy in a way, though this girl had Buffy all over when it came to height, she had the same sort of beauty. Not the classic beauty, but still.

“Um. Hi. I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m mean, introduced. I’m, uh, Alexandra. Call me Alex, though.” She held out a hand to the other girl.

“Yeah, I know. I’m Karolina. Nice to meet you. You missed Victor and Klara; they were out here for a while, but she got hungry, so.”

“Right. No problem.” Alex was a bit hungry herself. “I’ll be back a little later, maybe. Going to see a, uh, a friend in recovery.”

Karolina smirked, but it was a friendly smirk. “Yeah, Chase told me your girlfriend is in recovery. It’s okay, I’m a member of the family too.” The look of confusion on Alex’s face caused Karolina to let out an “Oh. You haven’t ever heard that phrase?”

Alex shook her head.

“Member of the family. You know.” Karolina held up a closed fist in the universal 'rebel solidarity' symbol that had been used in protest probably since the Dark Ages. Karolina leaned in and stage-whispered. “Lesbians of the world unite, we have nothing to lose but our chains.”

“Oh. No, I, uh, never heard that one before. I’m sort of new at this.”

“New at – ah – I get it. Let me guess. Lots of boyfriends, none of them worked out and you couldn’t figure out why. Then one day you meet this one girl and everything becomes damned clear. Suddenly, the love songs all start making sense. Yeah, that’s not very uncommon, really. It’s what happened to me.” Karolina shrugged. “It’s no problem. See you around, Alex. Let your girl know I think she’s very lucky.” Karolina sat back down and went back to her magazine. “See you later.”

“Yeah, you too.”

A few minutes later she was softly stepping through the doors into the surgical recovery ward. It took longer for her to get to Louise’s bedside than it had to move from the sixth floor to the third.

It was hard to look at Louise. She looked so pale and helpless. It was the loss of Louise’s normal lip color that kept catching Alex’s attention. Normally, Louise’s lips were a bright crimson; the lipstick was a cheap brand bought at a Wal-Mart, and was really the only makeup Louise could afford, so naturally she wore it all the time.

The doctors had assured Alex that Louise was recovering nicely, and that there was no sign of complications or infection, but still, she looked like she was going to die at any moment. And there were so many tubes and wires. There were IVs in both of her arms, and a tube going in through her nose that was to keep her re-inflated lung aerated. Lots of electrodes hooked to wire leads that led to the various monitors, an automated blood pressure cuff, and a of course a catheter. It was scary and nasty and horrible. But it was still Louise, and considering the revelations given to Alex by Moondark, she was the only anchor Alex had anymore.

And Louise did look a little better than she did yesterday. That was something. Not much, but something. Alex pulled the chair from behind a mobile table and sat down next to the bed. Alex carefully took Louise’s hand in her own and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Hey. It’s, um, it’s me. Just came by to see how you were doing.” Alex stared at Louise’s hand, held in her own. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Thinking about a lot of things, I mean. I was talking to Nico and Chase and the gang about what happened. What it all means.” She was quiet again. With gentle care, Alex traced the line of Louise’s thumb, then around the curve of her palm. “We, well, more Nico than me, but both of us, we were talking about the fact that I, uh, I killed some people. Bad people, but I killed them just the same.”

Alex took in a deep breath, then held it, then held it some more, then let it out slowly. A cheap way to calm yourself that had bubbled up from Xander’s memories. Alex had no idea where Xander learned it, but it worked.

“Anyway, these guys I killed were villains, but they were working for the government. The military, I think. And they might try and hang me up for the murder of federal officers. If so, I’m in some deep shit.” He sniffed, surprised to find his nose growing stuffy and his eyes watering. “I was just so angry! I wanted to hurt someone. I needed to hurt someone. And I did. I hurt them, and I didn’t care.” She swiped at her tear-filled eyes with the back of her hand. “I didn’t care who I hurt, I just wanted to punish them for what they did to you.” She took a long shuddering breath.

The tears were flowing now, and she made no more attempts to wipe them away.

“Nico and me, we’ve been talking about what she thinks I should do no. She figures that I need to run and hide. Just get the heck out of dodge and go far away and lay low. Maybe forever. Don’t know where I’d go to hide, but the uh, the general opinion is that the run and hide scenario is my best bet.” She began making small circles on the back of Louise’s hand.

“I got to say it’s a good plan. Find the right hiding spot, and I can ride out everything and hopefully the government never finds me.” Alex brought Louise’s hand up to her mouth and kissed it, then went back to making small circles. “I don’t know if that’s fair to you, though. You don’t deserve to be hunted for the rest of your life. You don’t deserve your life being ruined because you had the bad luck to fall for a guy…” She stopped talking suddenly, aware of the slip. Her thumb was motionless on the back of Louise’s hand. Another deep breath. “A girl, I mean. So, uh, Nico suggested that I, uh, leave you here with her and her friends. They said they can keep you safe, and help you out so you don’t have to go back to, to – you know.”

Alex kissed the back of Louise’s hand, then carefully placed it on the sleeping girl’s stomach. “But, you know, I’ve been sort of thinking about it. About us, I mean. I’ve really been thinking about my, my feelings for you, and, you know, your feelings for me. And uh, our feelings for each other. I mean, I know we’ve, uh, only known each other for a month or so, but I, uh, I care about you.” Another deep breath, this one let out in a huff.

“I love you. I know I love you, Louise. You’re my girl. I mean, I don’t know if I’m in love with you, you know? I don’t know if this is _love_ love, but I think, that uh, I think there’s, uh, there could be. I mean, I want there to be. Having it all be romantic would be good, right? I’ve never been in a romance before. I think I’d like to. We could be, you know? Romantic, I mean.”

Alex leaned forward and crossed her arms on Louise’s bed, then laid her head on them. She turned so she could look up at Louise’s sleeping face. “I hate what happened to you, Louise.” Her voice dropped to an almost-whisper. “I never wanted you to get hurt.” Alex closed her eyes and rested for a moment, feeling from the vibration of the bed the temp of Louise’s slow breathing.

“So anyway, uh, after I sort of figured out I loved you, I started asking myself if this was for real. I mean, uh, are our feelings for each other real? Are we really falling in love, or are we just desperate? I feel love for you. I love you. I know I love you. I can feel it. But – but – you were in a really crap place, and I was in a really crap place, and maybe we just, uh, I don’t know, latched on each other, you know? I was just sort of wondering. Just wondering if we, you and me, if we hooked onto the only people we know who gave a shit. You know?”

She stopped talking and just listened. To Louise breathing, and to the breathing of everyone else in the room. To the electronic hum of all the equipment in this and the surrounding rooms. To the slight whistling of oxygen pouring from the various bottles next to the patients’ beds. Even to the murmur of conversation coming from the hallway.

“I think.” Alex said, and took another deep breath. She opened her eyes again and was quiet for several minutes. When she spoke, her voice carried the exhaustion caused by an entire month of living with constant tension. “I’ve been thinking about it, I mean. The whole desperation thing. About whether our feelings are real.”

Another sigh. “I killed him because he hurt you, and I killed the other two because they were helping the man who hurt you. I still remember – I mean, Xander Harris remembers – how helpless he felt whenever Willow or Buffy got hurt. I mean, Buffy _died_ , Louise. She died, and even though I – Xander – managed to revive her, for a little while he, Xander I mean, was terrified that she was gone. I hate that feeling, but I know what caused it. It was love. And not just love, but real intense devotion, too. Xander loved Buffy. He loves Willow, too. Differently, I guess, but with the same amount of intensity.” The tears had returned, this time dripping down her face sideways and into the light hospital blanket covering Louise’s body.

“That’s how I know I love you, because it feels the same as how I remember Xander felt for Buffy and Willow. And it’s why I’ve come to a decision about leaving you behind and hiding to keep you safe and whether we’re just being desperate. I’ve come to a decision about all of it. And what I’ve decided is, I don’t care. I love you, Louise. I know we’re not to the in-love stage, but I want to be there. And I’m not running away from you. I’m not going anywhere unless you’re going with me.”

She paused, just to listen to the other girl breathe. “So get better, okay? I miss you.”

Alex shut her eyes again and returned to listening. It was relaxing, and Alex found herself lulled. She felt herself slipping into sleep. She’d just decided to give it up, and allow sleep to take her, when she felt it. A hand, clumsily but gently placed on her head. Alex opened her eyes, and without moving at all, looked up at Louise’s face.

She was still pale, and still badly hurt, but her eyes were open, if only in slits. But Alex could tell that Louise was looking into her eyes as Alex was looking into Louise’s. One side of Louise’s mouth quirked, just for a moment. It wasn’t much of a smile, but it was a smile. And then she closed her eyes again.

Alex smiled, wondering how much of that Louise had heard. She was still thinking about it when she fell asleep.

**XxxxxxX**

Susan Richards was dreaming of her last anniversary. She and Reed had reservations at Grammercy Tavern, and afterward they were going to go dancing. It had been a fantastic and romantic evening. But in her dream, Reed had never showed, and she went through the motions of her anniversary night alone. For some reason, she could feel that there was something wrong, but couldn’t put a finger on it. Even when the chef who was preparing the Caesar dressing tableside starting belting out a Johnny Rivers tune, she couldn’t put a finger on it.

_There’s a man who leads a life of danger! To everyone he meets, he stays a stranger! With every move he makes, another chance he takes. Odds are he won’t live to see tomorrow!_

Sue opened her eyes, awake finally. She listened as the song told about how the man’s name was taken away and replaced by a number. With a sigh, she reached up, turned on the light, and then grabbed the source of the song: her cell phone. She knew who it was from the ringtone.

“Do you have any idea what time it is, Phil?” She knew that Phil Coulson was usually much more courteous about people’s sleep cycles, so this must be big. Even so, they had a certain level of familiar teasing to maintain.

There was a dry chuckle from the other side. _“Well, I’d have to know your precise location for that. I can tell you that here in Washington it’s just a couple of minutes past four in the morning. I’m sorry I woke you, Sue, but this was the first opportunity I had make the call. And it’s urgent.”_

“Okay, what do you have?” She sat up in bed and grabbed the note-pad she kept next to her bed out of habit. Once upon a time, before she became a superhero, she was a fair-to-middling scientist herself, and it always helped to be able to write ideas down when they came to you in your sleep.

_“You’ve seen the footage on Karen Starr, right?”_

“Who?”

_“The incredibly powerful teenage girl who pounded the Thunderbolts into paste two days ago.”_

“Oh, her, yeah. I saw it.”

_“Good. I’m forwarding you her entire file. Everything SHIELD has on her. You might want to talk the Captain into making contact as soon as possible.”_ Sue could hear the tension rise in Coulson’s voice as he spoke. _“Gyrich has authorized Osborn to send in Project Ragnarok after the girl when they finally have locked down her 20.”_

“The Thor clone?” Sue’s blood had turned to ice-water. “Oh, Reed, what have you done. He got the thing operational again?”

_“Yeah, he and Pym have been working around the clock, and apparently, they got the thing up and around again. And the moment they have a good idea where the Starr girl is, they’re going to hit her with it. I’m thinking the collateral damage is going to be in the hundreds of millions of dollars, and maybe thousands of lives if that fight happens in a populated area.”_ She could hear Coulson sigh. _“I’ll contact you again when I know more.”_

“Please do, Phil. I’ll let Steve know.”

The phone went dead as Coulson disconnected without saying goodbye. He never bothered to say goodbye to anyone he liked. She asked about it once, and he told her that it sounded so final. She couldn’t disagree. Sue climbed out of bed. She didn’t bother getting dressed; she just threw a robe on, tied the belt tight, and left her room. Shortly, she was pounding on Steve Rogers’s door.

**XxxxxxX**

The hand on her shoulder woke Alex up. It was one of the nurses. “Sorry to wake you, but visiting hours are over. You can come back in the morning.”

Alex rubbed at her eyes, nodding. “Yeah, okay. No problem.” She stared down at Louise with smile. Even as pale and hurt-looking as she was, Louise was still pretty.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of her.”

“I know. I’m just worried. I can’t help it. She’s pretty much my entire world right now.”

The nurse nodded. “I take it the two of you are involved?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. Well, we’re getting there. We’ve been, uh, dating for about a month now. And, um, I, uh –” Alex ducked her head. She wasn’t sure why she was feeling embarrassed by it all. “Oh! She woke up. Not for long, but she opened her eyes a little bit and smiled at me before falling asleep again.”

“Excellent. That’s excellent news. I’ll make sure to tell the attending doctor.”

“Thanks. Thanks. I just want her to get better. She’s sort of like sunshine for me. I can’t get enough of her. Oh God, that sounded corny, didn’t it?” Alex shook her head at her self-generated schmaltz. “I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s okay. I think it’s sweet that you care for her that much. I’m sure she’s lucky to have you.” The nurse patted her on the arm, before turning back to the nurse’s station.

Alex turned and headed for the elevators. “Nope, I’m the lucky one.” She didn’t know if the nurse had heard her, but it didn’t matter. Alex stretched while waiting for the elevator to arrive. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, but it was probably long enough that she’d have been stiff had she not had the entire Kryptonian package.

The floor bell rang and she stepped into the elevator, sharing it with two nurses who just nodded and continued to stare at nothing. This was one of the reasons why she really didn’t like hospitals. Everyone was so unfriendly. She knew that nurses could be nice and all, but if they didn’t have to be, they never seemed to want to be. The thought occurred to her that it might be a coping mechanism – you kept people who might die on you at arm's length so it didn't hurt when they were gone – but it passed through her mind without catching on anything and sticking.

She found herself back at Nico’s room in short order. Karolina had been replaced by two people, on a tall, thin-looking guy and the other an entirely different young girl as Molly. Alex guessed these were the missing Victor and Klara. The girl was curled up on the couch, her head in the young man’s lap. Victor, if this was Victor, looked at Alex sharply for a moment and then just nodded at her. Alex looked at the young man quizzically. For some reason, she was getting the same high-pitched whine from him as she did from television sets, or the hospital’s monitors. Alex stopped and looked the man over again, this time shifting her vision to the high range.

_Well, that would explain it._ This Victor guy, again if this was Victor, was as much machinery as he was a human being. Alex shook her head and smiled. _Cyborg. Who’d a thunk it?_ “You know if Nico’s still awake? She wanted me to come back and talk to her. I didn’t mean to be so long.”

“Should be. Go on in.” Victor shrugged toward the door in a gesture of ultimate cool and uncaring, but Alex wasn’t sure he was pulling it off. She noticed that his voice has a very slight, very slight electronic buzz to it, but Alex was sure that unless your ears were tuned so high that you could hear grass grow, you’d never notice.

“Cool.” Alex tapped on the door before walking in. There was something a little funny about the scene presented before her. Chase was lying on his right side in the hospital bed, fully dressed and facing away from his bed partner. Karolina, also fully dressed, was snuggled up to his back and had wound an arm over him. Her hand was under his shirt. And both were snoring.

“They started off facing opposite directions. Karoline shifted about half an hour ago, and suddenly they were canoodling. I took pictures. Blackmail material, you know?” Nico was sitting in the lounge chair, reading a book. The lamp next to the chair was the only light in the room. “So how was Louise?”

Alex’s smile widened. “She woke up. Just for a second or two, but she smiled at me. I would have been back sooner but I fell asleep. It was nice.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Nico bent the corner of the page she was on and closed her book. She held it her lap. Alex could see that it had a lion on the cover, but couldn’t read the title. “While you were gone the bunch of us – well, everyone but Molly and Klara, they went looking for ice cream – anyway, we talked it over. I mean, you’re going to have to hide out, at least for a little while. And if you’re dead set on not leaving the country –” Alex shook her head, causing Nico to sigh. “Yeah. Since you’re dead set on not leaving the country, we think you should get as far from California as you can. Chase and Victor suggested Hawai’i. Karolina was arguing for Vermont or maybe Puerto Rico.”

Alex started to say something, but Nico kept talking. “I can’t remember who, but someone had this brilliant idea where you’d go back to Los Angeles and hide right under their noses, because that would be the last thing the government would expect, but we figured that was way to action-movie for it to ever work.” Nico sighed. It looked to Alex like she was hesitant about continuing. “Anyway, I was reading this book after you left, and after the guys and I had this talk, and it gave me an idea. You know, about how maybe we could get you safe and sound and out of the government’s hands for good. I made some calls to some friends, just to see if there was anyone who could help you out with it – my idea, I mean – since I’m not going to be able to.”

“You didn’t – “

“Nope, never once named your name. Just asked in generalities.” Nico put the book down on the table. Alex glanced at the cover to discover it was an omnibus edition of the _Chronicles of Narnia_.

“And _Narnia_ gave you the idea?” Alex thought about it. When it clicked, she couldn’t keep the shock off her face. “Wait. I thought that it wouldn’t work! How – “

“But it did work. I tried to send you to your home dimension. This is your home dimension, so the spell worked just like it was supposed to. I sent you here. I figure we should send you where you wanted to go. To the, uh, the _Buffy_ world, wherever that is.”

“Yeah, I guess that would – no one would be looking for us. And I’d certainly be in a good position to help with the, uh, monsters and such.” Alex sighed. “Okay, so all I have to do is hide out for a month or so while Louise recovers, and then you can send us – what’s wrong?”

Nico was shaking her head. “Actually, I don’t think I want to try it again myself. I can’t cast the same spell twice, and this is really similar to a spell that I’ve already cast successfully. I’m happy to speed up Louise’s recovery. I mean, I figure I can arrange her to get out of here in a couple of days all fixed up, but sending you guys to another dimension? I don’t want to risk it.”

Alex’s face fell. “Well shit.”

“No, hey, the world isn’t ending. Like I said, I was asking around.” Nico smiled. “And one of my contacts gave me a possibility. It would mean a trip to Florida. Alex, have you ever heard of Jennifer Hale, or the Nexus of All Realities?”

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Secret Agent Man” was a song recorded in 1964 by Johnny Rivers. It was written by P.F. Sloan and Steve Barri as the theme song for the American rebroadcast of the British television series _Danger Man_ (in America, the series was retitled _The Secret Agent_ ) from 1964 to 1966. The song was released in the US as a single, and peaked at #3 on the Billboard Hot 100. I thought it made a suitable ringtone for Sue Richards to assign to Phil Coulson.


	15. The Deep Breath Before the Plunge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“A clever general, therefore, avoids an army when its spirit is keen, but attacks it when it is sluggish and inclined to return.” – **Sun Tzu** , “The Art of War”_

**XxxxxxX**

Phil Coulson had been the Senior Supervisory Agent on SHIELD’s special assignment team for five years now. They were the agents that SHIELD deployed when their normal teams, which were made up of the finest trained people on the planet, just weren’t enough. To say that the special assignment team was the best of the best, and that as their head Phil Coulson was the best of the best of the best, was an understatement. It was a mark of the man’s character that Coulson didn’t let his reputation as a miracle worker go to his head.

But being the best of the best of the best didn’t make him any more patient than anyone else. It just meant he was cool under fire and level-headed in situations that would cause astronauts to panic. But not as patient. Right now, Coulson was doing his best to keep his patience under control.

After four days of constant investigation since the attack, his superiors in SHIELD had decided that the girl wasn’t in Los Angeles and had expanded the search to include nearby cities. 'Nearby' was being defined as a five-hundred-mile radius around Los Angeles. But now things were coming to a head and he knew that they swiftly were running out of time: he and his team had found the girl.

Luckily, his team knew the score and weren’t overly concerned with what Henry Peter Gyrich wanted out of life. But – and this was an important but – SHIELD didn’t recruit morons, and if he could find and follow this evidence, he was sure that the agency’s other agents could too.

“Grimm, pick up your phone.” He hadn’t mean to say it out loud, but he had. Coulson did a quick check of his 360. No one was close enough to have heard it except for Agent Ho, and Agent Ho was a collaborator, not an opponent. Other than Ho, Coulson was, as far as he could tell, alone. This was a good thing, because technically, what he was about to do could be considered treason, given that the ultimate consequence would be aiding and abetting a teenaged girl who was considered a terrorist by the current administration.

Not that he had any use for the Bush Administration. If the country survived having a chimpanzee like that in the White –

_“Phil, what d’ya got for me?”_ Since his transformation, the only real way to describe Ben Grimm’s voice with any accuracy would be to call it ‘gravelly,’ with all the puns about that description tossed in for good measure. If Grimm’s body had been remotely human anymore, Coulson would have told the other man to immediately stop with the cigarettes.

“Ho analyzed air traffic records, traffic cameras, and internal security camera footage and found the girl. She’s in San Francisco at the UCSF Teaching Hospital, and she’s not alone. According to the footage, she’s there with a bunch of super-powered teenagers who normally run around LA. From what we can tell going through the hospital’s records, when Bullseye attacked he clipped at least two of them.”

_“Dead?”_

“No, just injured. They’re being treated. Hold on a second.” Coulson tapped Ho on the shoulder. When the other man looked up, he asked, “How long can you sit on this?”

Agent Ho turned back to his computer screen and began tapping in some commands. The footage became blurry and indistinct, the colors off. “Well, it’s going to take me a couple of hours to wash it, verify it, and enhance it. Call it four hours, tops. Then they’ll know what we know.”

“Right.” Coulson put his phone back to his ear. “We can delay the intel for about four hours, Ben. After that, the San Francisco office will be notified. You’ve got no more than four and a half hours to get them out of dodge.”

_“Gotcha. Let me get to it. Talk to ya later, Phil.”_

Coulson pocketed his phone as Grimm signed off. “Okay,” he said to Ho. “We’ve given Grimm as much time as possible. Do your best to sit on this as long as possible. Nobody with an ounce of sense wants this to become a shooting war. I’ve seen what this girl can do; Gyrich throwing Project Ragnarok at her is just going to get a city leveled.”

That seemed to panic Ho. “Um, Phil? My mom lives in San Francisco.”

Coulson thought about it for a minute. “Make it quick, tell her to pack light, and tell her to get the hell out of town.”

**XxxxxxX**

Ben Grimm stepped out of house. He wore a trench coat and a fedora, both over-sized; the last thing he needed was some SHIELD surveillance satellite to wonder what the hell the Thing was doing Santa Barbara, California and not safely on a self-enforced exile in Nice on the French Riviera. Sue Richards had chosen this specific house, built on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Coast, as a hiding spot because once upon a time it had belonged to Clint Barton and his wife Bobbi, purchased and lived in during their time as members of the West Coast Avengers.

 

Grimm had no idea who the house belonged to, now that both Clint and Bobbi had passed on, but Sue had told him where keys would be left. It was a nice house, and while it was a little creepy – not to mention totally heartbreaking – to be in a house still filled with knick-knacks from a dead married couple, he’d spent the last two days there waiting for word from Coulson. No one outside of Sue Richards, had known he was here, and that was a good thing if he was going to pull this off.

In addition to anonymity, there was another good reason to use this house. It had a gigantic garage.

He lifted the garage door, revealing the concealed Fantasti-car that Sue had somehow managed to get her hands on. It was an older model, and Ben guessed that Reed had just lost track of it. _Typical of Stretch, Grimm thought. If it isn’t biting him on the nose, he doesn’t care about it. Might be why Susie is divorcing him._ He keyed in the ignition sequence as quickly as he could, and carefully maneuvered the vehicle out of the garage and out onto the drive-way. He finished his checklist, made sure the craft was functional, then pulled the charging cable from the garage’s electrical outlet. As it automatically retracted into a hidden panel in the Fantasti-car, he double-checked the GPS. He had four and a half hours to get the girl out of San Francisco, and it was going to take him at least half that to fly to San Francisco.

_Oh well, no help for it. Time to get started._

**XxxxxxX**

“Alex. Sweetie. I love you more than I can say with words. You know that, right?” Alex took in Louise’s smile and it made her spirit feel lighter. She held the smaller girl carefully and gently as Louise stood up from her hospital bed.

“Of course I do!” Alex returned the smile and carefully placed a light kiss on her girlfriend’s forehead. She could feel Louise lean into the kiss. “I love you too, honey.”

“I’m glad. I’m glad you know this. And since you know I love you, I’m sure you’ll take what I have to say in the spirit I mean it.” Alex continued to smile at her girlfriend as the two of them slowly approached the restroom door. Louise stopped and again looked up at Alex. “Alex, love, if you keep treating me like I’m made of glass I’m going to scream. And maybe throw things. I’ll get something heavy and hit you with it. I know it won’t hurt you, but maybe it will convince you that I can make it to the bathroom and back by myself and I don’t need you to hold my hand to pee.” The smile on Louise’s face never once dimmed. “I’m not even really hurt anymore, jeez.”

Alex stopped right where she was, a stunned look on her face. Louise took three steps before she realized that Alex had stopped, but rather than stop herself just shrugged and kept walking into the rest room. “Thanks love,” she called over her shoulder. She blew Alex a kiss and closed the door behind her. And that’s when the giggling started.

She turned to the other person in the room. Nico Minoru was lounging in the chair beside the door, and was taking great pleasure from the scene that just occurred. “Please don’t laugh at me.” Alex frowned at the other woman. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh, I think it is. I think it’s hilarious. I had the same conversation with Molly my first night here. Of course, she was actually trying to pick me up and carry me.” And once again, Nico caught the giggles.

Alex couldn’t help it. She tried to stay dour, but the laughter was infectious. “It’s your fault, Nico. You and your fancy magicky healing. She was all gray and sick looking last week. I should have time to get used to the fact that she’s not looking like she’s going to die every second of every day. I mean, abracadabra and she’s all pink and beautiful again. It’s eerie.”

That caused Nico to giggle again, harder this time.

“It’s not funny!”

More giggles.

“Yeah, okay, it was funny and I deserved it.” She smiled as the rest room door opened again. Louise smiled back, and patted Alex on the shoulder on her way to the bed.

Once Louise was settled, Nico grew serious. “We need to talk about the plan.”

“What plan?” Louise asked.

“Exactly.” Nico was quiet for a moment. “While you were in recovery, Alex and I had a talk. I suggested she disappear. The cops and the Feds have got to be looking for her. I mean, you’ll probably fly under the radar, but she took those guys out, so they’re going to be coming after her. And just sitting around in the hospital isn’t going to cut it. They’re going to start looking, and we’re not exactly well-hidden.”

Alex nodded. She glanced over at Louise and saw that she, too was nodding.

“Okay. So, what? We run? Where do we run?”

Alex started to answer, but Nico beat her to it. “Well, I’ve been doing to thinking. I think – and I hate this, I do – I think that you guys are going to be running for the rest of your lives if you stay here.”

“Here? You mean San Francisco?” Louise looked confused.

“No, I mean here, this dimension. I think you guys should try to reach Alex’s home dimension. I mean… sorry, I mean Xander Harris’s home dimension. Or, even if you can’t get there, maybe some other version of this dimension. Or anyplace you guys can be safe. Because I don’t think this world is going to ever be safe for you.”

Alex shook her head. “You mean run. I don’t want to run.”

“Alex, we’re – aren’t we going to have to run anyway?” Louise stared at Alex, her eyes wide. Alex opened her mouth, and Louise interrupted. “And don’t you dare say that you’ll run and I’ll be safe, because you already told me you wouldn’t do that.”

“You remember that?”

“Yeah. I remember that.” Louise smiled.

Alex stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. We run and hide and we run and hide together.” She turned to Nico. “You said something about a Jennifer Hale? And a Nexus of something-or-other?”

“Kale. Jennifer Kale and the Nexus of All Realities.”

“Okay.” Alex shrugged. “Who is Jennifer Kale and what’s a Nexus of All Realities?”

“Well, Jennifer Kale is a witch. She’s one of the Magisters.” Nico sighed at the blank looks on Alex and Louise’s faces. “Okay, remember the back when I mentioned Doug Henning, about how he was one of the backups for Doctor Strange? Well those guys are Magisters. The guys who are _almost_ powerful enough to be Sorcerer Supreme. If something were to happen to Doctor Strange, one of them would almost certainly be next in line to be the next Sorcerer Supreme.”

“How many of them are there?” Alex was genuinely interested. Xander Harris had always liked the _Doctor Strange_ comics, and it had carried over to Alex.

“Uh, well, there’s Kale, Mordo, and that spooky Drumm guy down in New Orleans, and that horror show Hellstrom. Hmmm….” Nico thought about it for a minute. “There’s about six, maybe seven of them right now. But that's beside the point. I called around and asked a couple of people I know in the magic community for some ideas. Sort of asked them, you know, if you were going to run to a new dimension to get away from an enemy, who’d you go to for transportation, right? Jennifer Kale is the only one they suggested who is easy to find and might be inclined to help you rather than turn you into an enthralled slave or something.”

“Right. Mind-controlled slave is of the bad.” Alex chuckled. “We definitely don’t need that.”

“So where do we find her, Nico?” Louise’s hands were in motion out of nerves. She smoothed the blanket over her legs three times.

“Florida. From what I hear, she lives in the Everglades.”

“The Everglades? You mean the big swamp?” Alex asked.

“No, the mountain range.” Louise laughed. “It’s not that bad, Alex. I went there once with my folks when I was a kid. Family vacation to Florida. It’s pretty cool.” She turned to Nico. “What’s this Nexus thing?”

“Well, the Nexus of All Realities is this – Nexus – thing.” Nico shrugged. “I don’t have any idea. Just, it’s a connection between all the different dimensions. When I asked Drogo, he said it was like this tube that ran through all the alternate dimensions. But just the alternates. It doesn’t go to places like Hell or Fairyland. Just to places like an Earth where _Jersey Shore_ was canceled after two episodes, or where the dominant life form was intelligent ducks or something. It’ll take you to Xander’s home world, or maybe to somewhere else you can be safe if you can’t get to that dimension.”

“But what about –” Alex began.

Nico cut her off. “Yeah, I know, but look, right now you’ve got the entire weight of the United States government about to fall on you. They’re never going to stop coming unless you somehow convince them that it’s cheaper to leave you alone. And if they aren’t willing to do that for the Hulk, why would they do it for you?”

A tense silence fell across the room. All three women stared into space.

Finally, Alex sighed. She took one of her girlfriend’s hands and leaned in to press her body against Louise’s. “Louise, it’s up to you. You’re from here. This is your home. I mean, yeah, it’s mine too, but you know what I mean. I’ll do anything you want. If you say we stay, we stay. If you say we go, we go.”

Louise nodded, not yet looking at Alex. They were all quiet for a long while, before Louise finally said, “Would things be better there, Alex?” She looked up and met Alex’s eyes with her own. Alex could see that Louise was on the verge of tears. “Would we – would we have to live on the street? I don’t want to start, you know. I stopped and don’t want to go back to it.”

Alex shook her head. “No. We wouldn’t have to live on the streets, and there’s no way you’re going to back to hooking.” Nico started at that; she hadn’t been let in on that aspect of these two women’s lives yet. But the context gave her some understanding about it. When you lived on the streets, you did what you had to do to survive.

“I’ve got friends there. Well, Xander has – damn it!” Alex shook her head. “You guys know what I mean. There are people there who would help us if we explained what was going on. They’d take us in once we explained who we were and what was going on. Maybe help us find some place to live and all.” Alex smiled at a memory. “And I know that Mrs. Summers, Buffy’s mom, wouldn’t let us go hungry.”

“Okay.” Louise took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She was quiet for a while before speaking. She opened her eyes. “Okay, then let’s try to get there.” She gave a weak laugh. “Always wanted to be on television.” She gave Alex’s hand a squeeze. “So, we need to find Jennifer Kale and the Nexus thingy. What are we going to need to get there?”

“Well, I think you’re – “Nico stopped talking as the hospital room’s door opened. The man who stepped through was unexpected. It wasn’t just that he was tall and filled the door. It was that his skin was bright orange, and seemed to be made of stone. Everyone recognized him at once. Alex stood, placing herself in between the Thing and Louise. She caught Nico’s eye and gave a bob to the left with her head, which was returned with a nod. Alex stepped toward the intruder as Nico moved to stay behind the Kryptonian.

“Hey, you Karen Starr? If so, we gotta get – URK!”

“Shut up! Why are you here? What do you want?” Alex had pushed the man out of the room and into the hallway. She pressed him against the wall as hard as she could without breaking through it. She looked left and right, scanning the rest of the hospital with her x-ray vision, looking for the rest of the Fantastic Four. Where the Thing was, they wouldn’t be far behind. When the Thing remained quiet, she turned back to him. “Answer me, damn it!”

“Which way do ya want it, kid? Ya want me to shut up, or you want me to answer ya?” There was a patient humor in Grimm’s voice.

“What?” The Thing’s question had thrown Alex off her stride. “No, answer me! What are you doing here? Why are you attacking us?”

“Kid, I’m not attackin’ anyone. I just came to find you.” Alex’s expression grew tight at that, but before she could say anything Grimm added, “Wait, kid, no. Not like that. Sue Richards asked me to help get you out of sight, so here I am, helpin’. Now, we can stay here with you pressin’ me through a wall and all, or we can get the heck out of dodge before those SHIELD yutzes get here and make things more complicated than I think you want.”

“SHIELD’s coming? Here?”

“Yeah, kid. I figure they’re only about a half-hour, maybe an hour behind me, tops. We got to get you and your friends out of here, now. Do ya mind? You’re rumpling my coat, and you wouldn’t believe how expensive it is to get tailored clothes for a guy my size.” He pointedly looked down at where her fist was bunched up in his trench coat. Already, two buttons had popped off it.

“Oh. Yeah, sorry. You’re here to – wait, how did you find us?” Alex stepped back, then tried to smooth the trench coat down as best as she could.

“Let’s just say not everybody at SHIELD is happy with being turned into the gestapo and leave it at that. Like I said, we need to get out of here. I have a ride waiting. C’mon.” Grimm stepped past her and back into the room.

Alex followed. “Hold on a second, Mister! We’re not going anywhere with you just on your say-so. I mean, how do we know you’re not just leading us into a trap, huh?”

The Thing sighed. “Okay, look. That’s a good point. But from what I’ve been told, you can bust through pretty much any trap, right? So either I’m tellin’ ya the truth and you’re wastin’ time, or else its nothin’ you need to be worried about anyway. Get your stuff and let’s go.”

Alex looked to Nico, then to Louise. Louise looked like she was about to faint. Nico just looked thoughtful. Nico shrugged. “You said Sue Richards sent you?”

“Yeah.”

Nico was about to continue, but Louise interrupted. “Why would the Invisible Woman give a shit about three kids from LA she ain’t never met?”

“She didn’t like what you been through.” He gestured toward Alex. “Thinks you been riding the railroad too long and needed some help, so she sent me to help out. Susie Q couldn’t come herself without attracting undue attention, and as I was unencumbered by scheduled events and all, I figured I’d lend a hand. Now, for the sake of all that’s holy, could we get a move-on? SHIELD’s gonna be here any minute.”

Nico finally found her voice. “The Invisible Woman wants us to go with you? And what, help her and Captain America fight off Iron Man and the Avengers? We’ve been trying to keep our heads down. We don’t want –” Grimm was already shaking her head.

“All she told me was to get you out from under SHIELD. So, we goin’ or what? ‘Cause even if you tree decide you want to hang around, I’m beatin’ feet. No need to let them bozos know I’m in town, know what I mean?”

He just stood there, waiting.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Nico, where’s your stuff?” Neither Alex nor Louise really had anything else but the clothes they were wearing. Louise didn’t really have anything other than her jeans and the hospital gown. The shirt she was wearing when she came in had been cut from her by the emergency room doctors.

“Molly and Chase took it back to LA. We’re good. Let’s go.” Nico headed out, past Grimm.

“Right. Louise, sweety, I know you can get around just fine, but for now, put up with it.” Alex scooped the smaller girl up into her arms. She turned to Grimm. “Lead on, MacDuff.”

The Thing smiled as led them out of the room. “Actually, it’s _‘Lay on, MacDuff’_ , not ‘lead on.’ You kids always get that wrong. Head for the elevators. I’ve got a Fantasti-car hidden in the parking garage.”

**XxxxxxX**

The trip to the hospital’s parking garage took only a handful of minutes. The Thing immediately began the start-up procedures.

“I definitely hear helicopters approaching, guys. We need to get a move on.” Alex set Louise in the Fantasti-car’s front seat, then helped her fasten the five-point harness.

“I don’t hear anything.” Grimm was still flipping switches. The vehicle’s engines started spooling up to full capacity.

“You will. Give it two seconds.” Alex reached across Nico to help; the other girl was having trouble getting the harness closed correctly. She had just finished snapping closed the last restraint line when she abruptly jerked her head up.

Alex stood and took a quick 360. To the others, it looked like she was staring at nothing. “Shit! Mr. Grimm, we’re out of time. Where are you taking them?”

“There’s a house in Santa Barbara, built on a cliff overlookin’ the ocean. We’re usin’ it as a safe house.”

“Okay, get moving. I’m staying to cover your get-away. I’ll catch up to you.” Alex turned away from the Fantasti-car, but had barely moved when Louise’s hand shot out and caught her arm.

“Wait, what? No! Alex! You have to come! Don’t leave me, please!” Louise was clearly terrified.

Alex ran a gentle hand down the face of her girlfriend. “It’s okay, honey. I’ll be there. I have to make sure you’re safe. You trust me, right?” Louise nodded. She was tearing up already, and Alex found it excruciating to do what she was doing. “Okay. Then I need you to go with Nico and Mr. Grimm. I have to know you’re safe. They can’t hurt me. I’ll be okay.” She kissed Louise then. It was a soft, slow kiss that had every ounce of emotion Alex could put into it. When it was over, Alex stood. “Get them out of here, Mr. Grimm. Keep them safe.”

Alex stepped back as the Fantasti-car lifted off the ground and shot forward. She kept her eyes on Louise as long as possible, and waved as long as she could. With a sigh, she walked to the outer rim of the parking garage. A waist-high concrete wall kept people from falling four-stories to the ground. As Alex watched, a caravan of blue-colored SUVs and step-vans crowded the hospital entrance. They soon disgorged dozens of armed SHIELD agents. Some formed a perimeter around the hospital, others rushed inside. For some reason, none looked up at the parking garage.

Alex shook her head and grinned. This was one Kryptonian power she never really thought she’d needed. It always seemed to be too weird for television. But now it served a purpose. She took a deep, deep breath, and then shouted loud enough to shatter every pane of glass within 500 yards of her, and cause every other rigid surface to vibrate. Many of the armed men and women on the ground below her were knocked down by the shockwave.

_**“HEY, DIPSHITS! YOU LOOKING FOR ME? I’M UP HERE!”** _

Every eye below her turned to stare. The SHIELD agents were motionless in shock, but soon enough it wore off. A dozen of them sprinted toward the parking garage while three more ran into the hospital. Alex just stood there, waiting. She didn’t have to wait long.

“On the ground! Now! Get down on your knees! Hands on your head!”

Alex turned and smiled at the circle of SHIELD agents, all of whom were pointing weapons at her. She recognized the guns; they were the rifle version of the Hulkbuster that Agent Dunne had tried to use on her back when she first escaped. For that matter--

“Hey, I know you. You’re… you’re – what’s your name. Copella!” Alex smiled at the man leading the platoon of agents. “Agent Copella! How’ve you been? I thought you were still in New York!”

Copella didn’t return the smile. “Karen Starr, you’re under arrest for aggravated assault, murder, attempted murder, destruction of government property, and terrorist actions. Get down on the ground, now.”

Alex just laughed. “Oh, come on, Bart. Can I call you Bart? You and I both know that you’re not going to hurt me with those things. I’m not going –” She trailed off as three helicopters flew across the upper floor of the parking garage barely higher than rooftop level. It was clear by their flight-path that they were after the Fantasti-car.

She looked back down at the senior agent. “Okay, time to go. You guys have a good – “The agents started firing as soon as the word ‘time’ had left her mouth. It didn’t do any good at all. The first time Alex had been shot with one of those things, it had stung a bit. But now, after the top-off that Sentry had given her, plus days and days of exposure to sunlight, the adamantium slugs fired by the rifles might as well have been soap bubbles for all their impacts bothered her. “– time. I’ve got a couple of helicopters to catch.”

Alex shot into the air, straight through the top two floors of the parking garage. She took a moment to orient herself, and was after the SHIELD aircraft like a shot. Alex could see Ben Grimm’s aircraft flying low over San Francisco Bay a few miles ahead, but the helicopters were closing, and they were armed. She didn’t think that SHIELD would want the bad PR that would come from shooting down a member of the Fantastic Four, but personally, Alex didn’t want to risk it.

It took no time at all for Alex to catch the first helicopter. She matched speed and caught the pilot’s eye; the helicopter veered to the right, away from her, as the pilot jerked in shock. Alex stayed close, never allowing the pilot to get the aircraft more than five feet away from her. She pointed to the pilot, then pointed to the ground emphatically. He ignored her, trying to maneuver his craft away. She pointed again, and again the pilot ignored her. She shook her head, then pointed again, first to herself, then pointed at the helicopter’s rotors. And then she pointed at the ground.

The pilot ignored her for a third time. Alex gave the man a quick salute, and then very slowly, very _visibly_ gained altitude. Inch by inch, she got closer and closer to the helicopter’s rotors. She pointed to the ground emphatically the entire time. The pilot and his co-pilot had a shocked looks on their faces as they realized what she was doing, but did nothing to land the helicopter. Eventually, Alex got tired of it and shrugged.

Then she flew through his rotor.

With the sudden lack of lift, the helicopter began a crash spiral. It fell three or four feet before Alex caught the helicopter with one hand. She carried it to the ground, and before either the pilot or the co-pilot could react, she’d grabbed the canopy and peeled the top off the helicopter.

“You guys okay? Either of you hurt?” Alex asked.

“What?” The co-pilot managed to gasp out. The pilot was grabbing at the pistol strung under his shoulder. He turned the muzzle of the weapon toward her and fired, almost by reflex. Alex’s left arm blurred as she snatched the bullet out of the air?

“I said, 'Are either of you hurt?'” Alex yanked the pistol out of the pilot’s hands as gently as she could and crushed both it and the bullet into a small ball. She dropped the former firearm and its round to the ground. “I just wanted to stop you from chasing down my friends, not hurt you. So, you hurt?”

Both men stared at her for a moment, obviously still unsure of how to handle the situation. Finally, the pilot said, “Uh… no ma’am. I don't think we're hurt.” He glanced to his co-pilot and then back at Alex. “Shouldn’t we try and arrest you?”

“Right. Good luck with that. Might want to tell your friends in the other helicopter I’m coming.” And with that, she leapt back into the air. Alex spotted the other helicopter. Hell, the pilot was making it easy for her. The other aircraft was wheeling around toward her and she could see the rotary cannon slung under the cockpit begin to spin up. Alex veered to the right and accelerated, leading the helicopter away from San Francisco and out over the bay. If they were going to shoot at her there'd be rounds going everywhere. No need for stray shots to endanger anyone else.

She dove under the Golden Gate Bridge and headed toward the open Pacific maintaining just enough speed for the chopper pilot to stay interested without once giving him a clear shot. All the while, Alex was counting. _One Mississippi. Two Mississippi._ When she got to eleven, she stopped dead in the air. The SHIELD helicopter at first shot past her, but then the pilot began to wheel around again. Alex closed with it as the pilot triggered his gun, but he wasn’t quick enough to keep it targeted on her. Within seconds, she was on top of the helicopter. Literally. She took hold of the airframe, then booted sideways, jerking both herself and the craft to the left by a good twenty feet. The sudden change in air pressure and the overwhelming torque caused the rotor to shear away, and the tail to snap off.

Alex smiled at the pilot and shrugged at his visible panic. She carried the crippled helicopter and its crew to Alcatraz Island. Like with the first helicopter, she peeled the canopy away and asked, “You guys okay? Either of you hurt?”

“What the fuck, lady? You could have fucking killed us back there!” The pilot popped his safety harness and jumped out of the helicopter. He began examining the remains of his aircraft. The co-pilot followed, but where the pilot was more interested in the helicopter, the co-pilot was interested in Alex. He yanked his pistol and held it on her.

“You freeze right where you are, lady.”

Alex sighed. “Look, uh – “Alex read his rank and his nameplate. “Look, Captain Worley, you shouldn’t pull a gun on someone unless you intend to shoot them, and that would be a phenomenally bad idea because I'm bulletproof and strong enough to pull your copter to scrap. Anyway, I got to be going.”

“Going? You’re not – “

But Alex had already lifted into the sky. She’d passed the sound barrier before she reached a thousand feet, and broke it again before she reached five thousand feet, and a third time by the time she reached eight thousand feet.

She flew until the sound stopped, and then looped, almost returning to the same trajectory as she had used to climb. From far enough away from the ground, San Francisco and Los Angeles were virtually right next door to one another. Alex dove through the atmosphere to the surface, slowing as she went. By the time she was a hundred feet above the Pacific, she was barely moving at the speed of sound.

She couldn’t see the Fantasti-car in front of her, which was odd. _They couldn’t reach Los Angeles already, could they?_ she asked herself. _Even as fast as they were flying, it would take a couple of hours, and the fastest way to go and still avoid notice was out over the open water. So, where were they?_

When it finally occurred to her, Alex felt like an idiot. She looped around to look behind her, and there, maybe twenty miles away, and eighty feet above the water, was the Fantasti-car. Alex focused, and suddenly she could see the faces of Louise, Ben Grimm, and Nico Minoru clearly. Grimm was concentrating and talking, Louise was wide-eyed, but calm. Nico couldn’t help looking over her shoulder every ten seconds. _Time to join them,_ she thought to herself. Alex carefully approached the aircraft, matching speeds as closely as possible and careful to not cross its path with her own wake. She remembered from Kara that doing so was a bad idea; many of the swiftest, most powerful flying heroes had accidentally wrecked aircraft they were trying to rescue through self-generated air turbulence.

Louise spotted her first, and gave Alex a smile and a wave, then tapped Grimm on the shoulder. The Thing took a quick look and nodded. Nico, in the Fantasti-car’s back seat, smiled at Alex, but kept checking the way they’d came. Alex smiled at the group and started to edge closer with the goal of dropping into the open seat, but she had to abruptly pull up and away. There was some sort of field surrounding the Fantasti-car, and Alex had brushed it. It felt a bit like an electric shock, a tingly vibration over her entire body.

Alex could have kicked herself. She should have known there was something protecting the open cockpit of the aircraft. They had to be moving at over three hundred miles per hour, yet none of the passengers were being buffeted by the wind. Heck, Ben Grimm’s hat was still on his head. With this sort of wind flow, it should have been torn from his head miles back.

_Okay, so hopping into the cockpit is impossible. Guess I’ll just fly along._ Alex ducked under the aircraft and came up on the pilot’s side. Grimm spared her a glance and nodded again. Alex gestured, pointing two fingers at her own eyes, then pointing at the Fantasti-car, then waving a hand at the surrounding seascape. She hoped Grimm got the idea. He looked at her for a moment, then nodded. _Good. He got it._

Alex waved again at Louise, then gained altitude so she could keep a better view, and thus keep a better eye out for possible attack.

**XxxxxxX**

“Yes. I see. Broken windows? Ah, yes, I guess that would happen. Were there any casualties? Anyone hurt? Really? And you said the helicopters – and despite all that the crews weren’t harmed? I see. Wait, one of the pilots said he shot her? How did she respond? Really?” Phil Coulson laughed. He couldn't help it. “No, no, I agree. It’s not funny, and I shouldn't be laughing. Nevertheless, it’s funny, and I'm laughing.”

The agent continued to listen to the man on the phone. “Interesting. How about the other people; the girls who were wounded in Bullseye’s attack. Did they also escape? I see. Yes, that would be problematic. Who do you think? I see. Yes, thank you, Agent Copella. Stay on station. We’ll get you new orders shortly.” Coulson placed the receiver back on the phone and sat back, thinking. He looked up at Maria Hill, who was standing in his office doorway and shook his head. “It’s as expected. She got away clean. There weren’t any human casualties, but SHIELD apparently owes the California National Guard a couple of attack helicopters.”

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes. “Also, her – what would you call them, accomplices? Companions? Girlfriends? Doesn’t matter, I suppose. Anyway, they escaped with the aid of someone who had access to an aircraft. Agent Copella said that he wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but that it looked a lot like one of the old Fantasti-cars that the Fantastic Four used to use before they went with the new models. Given their direction and their heading, they could be in any of the coastal cities, but Copella thinks the most likely destination was Los Angeles. Doesn’t make much sense to me for them to go rushing back into the lion’s den, but the logic follows.”

“Sue Richards was helping them.” Hill stepped in and shut the door. She had an odd look in her eye. “Which would raise the question of how Sue Richards even knew this girl exists in the first place.”

**XxxxxxX**

The house to which Ben Grimm had taken them was huge and empty and dark and smelled slightly musty, like no one had lived there for years. The Thing had told Alex that the house had belonged to Hawkeye and Mockingbird once, but since both had died – the news that Hawkeye had died somehow came as a shock. The comic book geek in Xander Harris had always preferred those superheroes who were especially trained athletes and martial artists, who used their wits and some special gear and training to get by. Batman. Green Arrow. Black Widow. Hawkeye. It was a shock to find out that in this world, Hawkeye was dead and buried.

Grimm had given them enough time to decompress, and then had sat down with Louise and Alex and given them a proposition. Laid out several options as to where to go from here. And then he’d left them alone to think.

Alex was still thinking. The view of the Pacific Ocean from the back deck of the house was conducive to thinking, even if the view of the stars was disappointing due to the weather. Alex stared up into the night sky. It was gray, with thick, heavy clouds obscuring her view of the stars and blocking out most of the moonlight. To the south, against the reflected light of Los Angeles, the occasional bolt of lightning could be seen. The wind brought the ozone smell that both Xander and Power Girl associated with a rain storm. Alex looked to the sky and concentrated, and the stars reappeared amid the bright haze of ultraviolet rays bouncing away from the earth’s ozone layer.

“Um, Alex? I made some tea. Do you want some?” Louise’s voice betrayed the hesitancy she felt. Alex smiled at her girlfriend over her shoulder, partly from the joy of being near her, and partly from the odd way Louise looked under ultraviolet light. In ultraviolet, Louise's bright blonde hair was a deep gray, and her skin – normally a smooth, featureless porcelain – looked heavily freckled. Alex let her vision slide back into the normal range.

“Hey, you. C’mere.” Alex took the other woman into her arms, careful not to jostle the tea cup. “I love you.” She kissed Louise on the top of her head, and then again. “It’s going to be okay. I know it’s all, I don’t know, shaky. What’cha call it. Unsettling. I don’t know about you, but I feel like we’ve fallen into a deep hole and haven’t hit bottom yet.”

Louise put the tea cup on the deck’s rail and returned the hug. “What do you think we should do?”

Alex gave Louise a one-armed squeeze. Hugs were always a good thing. “I’ve been thinking about it. As much as I’m a bit surprised that they’d want me to help them, I don’t think I can go with Plan A. I want us to be safe, and I can’t see how joining the fight against Iron Man and the Avengers is going to do that. I mean, I appreciate that Captain America and the invisible Woman think I can help, but I have to think about you, not just myself.”

“Florida, then?”

Alex tipped Louise’s face up. “Florida.” She gave Louise a gentle, warm kiss that brought all thoughts of danger or being chased, or having to hide to an end. For the next several minutes, all there was in the whole wide world was the two of them, standing over the Pacific Ocean, enjoying each other’s existence. When the kissing ended, they stood in each other’s arms and watched the ocean move back and forth against the shore, driven by the moon.

Alex and Louise were quiet, both waiting for the other to speak. The moment, and the silence, stretched for as long as either could tolerate. It was finally Louise who ended it. She sighed, and turned in Alex’s arms so that she was facing away from the taller woman, her back pressed to Alex’s chest. She leaned back into Alex, and said, “How are we going to get to Florida? Are you going to fly us?”

Alex gave Louise another hug before answering. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. If I flew us there as fast as I can, you’d get hurt. Not just the wind resistance, but you’d get wind burn so bad you’d die. And if I didn’t fly that fast, they’d be able to track us, I’d imagine. I probably show up on radar looking like a missile or something. We don’t want them to track us; the entire point of going to Florida is getting away.”

“Yeah. Okay, so you flying us is out of the question, and the same problems occur with you just running us there, I guess. We can’t afford bus tickets, much less two seats on a plane. And SHIELD must be watching the airports and the bus stations. Probably the train stations, too, not that we can afford the train. What’s left? Hitchhiking, maybe?”

“Maybe. Might be a bad idea. I bet the cops are looking for us by now. If we were made while on the road, it could get bad.”

Louise pressed on Alex’s arms, self-generating another hug. “Too bad neither of us owns a car. Or, you know, has money for gas, or food. Or hair dye and sunglasses.” The last was said with a gentle laugh. “We could do the entire _Thelma and Louise_ thing.”

Alex laughed with her. “Without the entire driving off a cliff into the Grand Canyon thing.” Alex laid another kid on the top of Louise’s head. “Why is it that you can never find a gym bag full of hundred dollar bills when you need them?”

“Yeah. Life is so inconsiderate, not leaving those around where you can stumble across them. You know, if we ever win the lottery, we're going to have to remember to always keep a gym bag full of money handy.” Louise smiled. “Alex, let’s think about this again tomorrow, okay?”

“Probably a good idea. It smells like it’s going to rain.”

“I smell it too. I saw lightning a second ago. I think a thunderstorm is coming.”

Alex shivered as Louise yawned and stretched languorously against her. The sensation of Louise’s body against her own caused her to shiver. Alex gasped unconsciously. Louise turned back to face Alex, again not leaving the taller woman’s embrace. Alex smiled as her girlfriend put her arms around Alex’s neck and hopped into her arms. Alex cradled Louise, who leaned her head into the crook of Alex’s neck.

“Alex, let’s go inside.” The soft breath of air whispering across Alex’s neck caused goose-bumps. “I need you, tonight. Make love to me.”

Alex’s mind was suddenly awhirl. They’d kissed, and there was the occasional grope over the clothes, and once even under the clothes, but they hadn’t ever got to what the Xander portion of Alex’s memories thought of as the 'hot and sweaty stuff.' She was, despite Kara Zor-El’s memories otherwise, still a virgin.

“You mean you want to –?”

She could feel Louise’s smile. Alex again felt the whispered breath across her neck. “Alex, take me to bed or lose me forever.”

Alex hugged Louise to herself and gently carried her girlfriend – soon to be her lover – inside.

**XxxxxxX**


	16. This Might Sting A Little

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“Desperation is the raw material of drastic change.” – **William S. Burroughs**_

**XxxxxxX**

Once Tony Stark knew that Sue Richards had been present to extract the Starr girl and her companions from the hospital, it had been easy enough to track down their most probably hiding spot. It had certainly been clever of Sue to think of it, because truth be told, the existence of this house had slipped Tony’s mind. Once upon a time, it had belonged to Hawkeye and Mockingbird. The archer had willed it to the Avenger’s Trust for possible conversion into a headquarters should the Avengers decide to start up another West Coast team. Unfortunately, the house lacked certain necessities that made using it in such a way feasible, and the house had sat empty for years. Everyone had forgotten it except the office drones who ran the Trust on behalf of Stark International and the Avengers; they kept the power on, and regularly hired maintenance people to keep the house in working order, and trimmed the trees and mowed the lawns. But no one in close association with the Avengers had even remembered it was here.

Until now. Once Tony Stark started looking for a spot Sue Richards could tuck a trio of fugitives away, the house had stuck out like a sore thumb. And now, the house was being encircled by a small army of SHIELD agents, armored Guardsmen soldiers, and the Avengers. All to arrest one girl. Oh certainly, her companions would be arrested and charged too, but it was the girl. The thought of having such a powerful individual under his control was giving Henry Peter Gyrich multiple orgasms. Stark instantly regretted _that_ thought. Associating the word ‘orgasms’ with the name ‘Henry Peter Gyrich’ was enough to cause him to throw up in his mouth a little bit.

The rain was cold and miserable, but they’d deal with it. Every now and again, the sky was lit up by distant flares of lightning, quickly followed by thunder. And the wind had picked up to thunderstorm levels. It was making deployment of the fliers difficult.

“Guardsman Flight is almost in position.” The voice on the radio belonged to Captain Meacham, the commander of the Guardsman platoon Stark had detailed to this operation. The US Army’s corps of powered-armor soldiers was only six hundred strong, and right now, thirty of them were following Stark’s orders.

“Acknowledged.” Tony Stark was trying something new tonight. He had a suit of armor on site, and was operating it remotely through a telepresence. The enforced inactivity caused by his injuries was beginning to drive him stir crazy. The telepresence was, so far, his best solution to the problem. Even if he wasn’t there, he could still keep his hand in.

He kept his eyes on the thermal image being streamed to him from Keyhole-4. The satellite, put into orbit in support of the war on terror, was doing its job perfectly, despite the weirdness of the image. The fact that they could only see the infrared signature of two people instead of four wasn’t the weird part. Between the time that Sue Richards – and it had to be Sue Richards, given all the circumstantial evidence – had arrived at this house with the three young women who’d been at the hospital and now, it was entirely possible that two of them had left and gone elsewhere. Stark was hoping that one of the people still in the house was Karen Starr, but there was no real way to tell that by looking at a thermal image provided by a satellite.

No, what was weird was that the thermal image of the two people didn’t look right. One of them was blazing with heat, as humans are wont to do what with their being mammals. That person appeared on the thermal image as a blaze of red, yellow, and orange. The other… wasn’t. The other person, instead of being red, yellow, and orange, was two different shades of blue and a shade of purple. It implied that the second person was just a hair over room temperature. Even stranger, they were surrounded by a thin corona of orange.

And that was weird, no matter how you sliced it. It was almost as if the second person was acting as some form of singularity, sucking in all the infrared radiation that struck them. _Hurr… now there’s a thought._ Stark mentally filed the idea away for later investigation. There wasn’t time right now to get into it.

“Janet, how is the deployment coming?” Technically, he was still the chairman of the Avengers, but since he was in overall tactical command of this operation, he couldn’t directly lead that team. He had the Guardsmen, the SHIELD troops, the Avengers, and of course Project Ragnarok to coordinate and couldn’t afford to concentrate on just one segment of the forces at his command. The Wasp was a capable field commander for the team. The only thing that worried him was the ad hoc additions to the main Avengers team that had been made at the last minute.

“The team’s in position and ready to go, Tony, but…” Janet Van Dyne’s voice was quiet over the command circuit.

“But?”

“But we’ve got some hotheads out here who are champing at the bit, if you know what I mean.”

Stark sighed. “Noted. Try and keep them in line.”

Feeling the need for extra firepower, the surviving, mission-capable members of the Thunderbolts had been folded into the Avengers team. In addition, he’d reactivated as many of the former Avengers and ‘reservists’ as he could reach who weren’t already imprisoned in the Gulag for resisting Registration. This had led to some unforeseen problems. Several of the veteran Avengers hadn’t been in the field as part of the team in many years. The new Moonstone that Gyrich foisted off on him was a snot-nosed kid who looked like he graduated high school the previous Tuesday. Project Ragnarok was one blown circuit away from being a friendly fire report. And both Sentry and Carol Danvers looks in their eyes that told Tony Stark that they were both here to inflict some serious payback on the Starr girl.

Going in looking for vengeance was a great way to generate collateral damage and hospital time.

**XxxxxxX**

Alex blinked, twice, suddenly awake. Something had woken her up. Some sound. She glanced at the clock. A little after 2 am.

She was lying on her left side, one arm draped over Louise, who was spooned neatly against Alex’s chest. Alex’s other arm was under Louise’s neck, serving as a supplement to the other girl’s pillow. Alex listened to Louise breath for a moment, unconsciously matching her own breathing patterns with the other woman’s. Thoughts of Louise made her smile.

Alex’s body still felt the throbbing tingle that comes from floating through multiple orgasms. She could still taste Louise on her tongue, and the faint aroma of Louise’s juices still hung around her mouth and nose. Alex could similarly detect her own scent on Louise. It was surprisingly arousing, which brought a smile to Alex’s face. Fleetingly, Alex thought to herself, _Can’t catch unicorns anymore._ She listened to Louise breath for a bit, smiling the entire time. _They say your first time pretty much always sucks. If that’s suckage I can’t wait to get better at it. Definitely going to have to try that again._ It had been educational, and Louise had been an enthusiastic teacher.

Alex’s head abruptly snapped up from the pillow. _What was that?_ Alex was sure she’d heard something that time. But the sounds of Louise’s breathing wasn’t it.

Alex gently pulled away from Louise, who whimpered a little at the loss of warmth but did not awaken. Alex sat up in bed and concentrated. The very low-range buzz she heard from the ground floor of the house had to be Ben Grimm; the idea that the ‘ever-lovin’ blue-eyed Thing’ snored caused her to grin.

That wasn’t it either.

She continued to concentrate. She eliminated the patter-patter-patter of the rain on the house’s windows, and the distant crashing of thunder. Concentrated. The susurrus of the tide vanished from her hearing, then the creaking caused by the storm-driven wind pushing on the house itself and the garage and the tree branches outside. She found and began ignoring the occasional sound of a vehicle passing less than a mile away on the Pacific Coast Highway.

Not that.

Her ears picked up some odd noises. Metal scraping on metal. Sticks and twigs snapping quietly under a heavy weight. And voices. Somewhere close to the house, someone was whispering. She concentrated further, trying to catch what was being said. And then she found it.

_“… Charlie Two in position. Awaiting orders.”_

Alex gently and carefully climbed from the bed and stood in the middle of the room. She dropped her visual range below the normal color spectrum and suddenly could see the heat signatures of dozens of people surrounding the house. All sides of the house, even the parts of it hanging over the Pacific Ocean, were surrounded; there were several fliers in the air, most of whom had hot-points around their feet, ankles, and palms.

Alex dipped into both Power Girl and Xander’s memories to figure out the situation. The fliers were apparently a mix of superheroes and guys in some sort of Iron Man-like armor. The folks on the ground were apparently a mix between normal guys with guns and more superheroes.

“Louise. _Louise!_ I need you to wake up now. Come on, baby, wake up.”

“Muh? Whuh? ‘lex? Whassiamengan?” Louise rolled over and tried to cover herself with her pillow.

“Louise, get your ass up right now, sweetie!” Alex struggled to keep her voice quiet.

Louise jerked awake and was pissed off about it, from the look on her face. “What the fuck, Alex? What’s – “Alex held a hand up, still staring through the walls.

“Don’t bother getting dressed. Just grab your clothes and go downstairs. Wake Mr. Grimm up and let him know we have company. He’ll protect you. Go on. And don’t be too scared, baby. I’ll be fine. Okay? Go on, now.”

Trying to be casual about it, Alex wandered toward the suite’s bathroom, kicking Louise’s discarded clothing into a rough line. Louise snatched each garment off the floor as she left. She paused at the door and gave Alex a quick worried look. “Rule One, Alex. Promise?”

Alex nodded. “Rule one. I promise, sweetheart. It’ll be okay. Go on.” Louise left, and Alex turned back to the bathroom.

_Follow the rules. Right._ Alex had explained the Scooby Gang’s patented Rules for Vampire Slaying, generated by Xander and Willow during a particularly boring research session. It was all part of explaining Alex’s true origins to Louise.

_Rule One: Don’t Die._  
Rule Two: Only violate rule one if that’s the only way to avert an apocalypse.  
Rule Three: Buffy isn’t short. She’s the perfect height for her size.  
Rule Four: Save at least one jelly-filled donut for Giles.  
Rule Five: Never verbally invite anyone into your home, especially at night.  
Rule Six: There is no Rule Six.  
Rule Seven: If the situation smells hinky to you, it’s probably hinky.  
Rule Eight: The two things we don't believe in are coincidences and leprechauns.  
Rule Nine: Dawn is not allowed to leave the house on Tuesday.  
And finally, Rule Ten: We really mean it when we say 'don’t die.' Seriously, do what you must, but stay alive. **Don’t die!**

Alex kicked her own clothing in the direction of the bathroom and once there put them on as quickly as she could without destroying them. Alex ran some water and splashed her face. She looked herself in the eye in the mirror and grinned. It was one of the patented Xander grins; the grin that Xander wore whenever he was drawing the attention of Larry and Percy and Dale and Cordelia and Aura and Harmony away from Willow Rosenberg and onto himself. It was the grin he wore when he put himself in between monsters and the innocent bystanders. It was the grin that said, _Yeah, this is going to completely and totally suck, but damn if every second of pain isn’t going to be utterly worth it._

She turned her attention back to the people arrayed around the house. As far as personal risk went, she wasn’t all that worried. But attacking the house like this meant they were putting Louise, and to a much lesser extent, Ben Grimm, at risk. Alex cranked her vision up from infrared, through the visible spectrum, all the way to x-ray vision and began scanning for the real threats among the merely annoying ones. An involuntary groan escaped her when she spotted the guy who could only be that Sentry jack-off, floating in the air next to a surprisingly empty suit of Iron Man’s armor. For a moment, Alex wondered what the hell was going on with the empty armor, but she shrugged it off. The other shape above the house, the one who was radiating so much energy it had to be Sentry, was beginning to dive toward the house, obviously intent on coming at her through the roof.

The heat spike from behind the house caught her attention. Someone big was rocketing toward the house from the direction of the Ocean. From their trajectory, the person in question was going to crash straight through the sliding glass door and into the bedroom. They looked – weird – compared to everyone else. Compared to the regular people. Denser bones, denser muscles. And they were holding an object that was bouncing Alex’s x-ray vision completely. It took Alex a moment to make out the object’s shape.

It was a hammer. An old-style war hammer, the kind Rupert Giles always called a mattock.

A hammer?

_Oh Christ, a hammer!_ Alex’s eyes grew wide. For the first time in a long time, she felt honest-to-God fear. “Oh, fuck me sideways.”

**XxxxxxX**

Stark called up the house’s floor plan. “We’ve got activity in the master bedroom. Is everyone in position?” There was a round of confirmation, briefly interrupted by static when a bolt of lightning hit far too close for comfort. His eyes widened; onscreen, the person with the truly odd thermal signature sat up from where it – she, he supposed – had begun moving. They – she, he supposed – had climbed out of bed, and was shortly followed by the other one.

The smaller thermal signature gathered something up from the floor and left the room, leaving the larger in the house’s master bathroom. He watched their movements for a moment before it suddenly came to him. They were dressing, and were doing it in a hurry. There was only one good reason to get dressed at 2 am in a hurry.

“We’re blown. They’re trying to bug out. Go! Breach now!”

**XxxxxxX**

The roof of the house crashed open in a wide ring-shaped hole at the same instant that the man with the hammer broke through the sliding glass door that led from the bedroom to the patio. Alex rushed forward. Sentry was powerful, but compared to a Kryptonian, he moved like a snail. Same with Thor; Asgardian or not, god of thunder or not, he was a statue compared to her. Before either hero could even blink, she had grabbed Sentry by one arm and spun in place. The extreme acceleration of her spin caused the hero to plank out like a steel girder, and Alex let go just at the right moment. Her aim was spot-on; the gold-clad Avenger hit Thor like a missile. The two Avengers were knocked clear through the bedroom wall and into the house’s front yard.

Alex took a quick look around. Close-quarters fighting was a bad thing. She leapt through the shattered glass doorway and into the air over the patio. If she was airborne, especially if she were in the air over a cliff, the guys on the ground couldn’t get to her. Of course, that did leave the house vulnerable to people on the ground.

Almost from the second Alex reached the clear airspace over the cliff, she was under fire. She dodged several repulsor blasts from a bunch of guys in what looked like cheap knock-offs of Iron Man’s armor; they still had repulsors even if their armor was a bad shade of green. Several of the SHIELD agents were firing at her with their sidearms. Wasp and Yellowjacket suddenly popped up out of nowhere and hit Alex in the eyes with their stinger blasts. Alex blinked, more from surprise than honestly being hurt.

And then Alex felt herself hit by God’s own baseball bat.

Alex slammed into the cliff’s edge and bounced once, landing in a heap in the house’s side yard. She clamored up on her hands and knees and started to her feet when a blue-clad fist caught her right across the jaw, dropping her to the ground again. It was Ms. Marvel, and she looked pissed. “I’m ready for you this time, bitch!” Carol Danvers kicked Alex in the side. Alex was propelled through the air and toward the drop-off.

Before Alex could go over the side, she was knocked to the ground by someone new. A man in a gold and white uniform and a helmet. The man was putting a lot of force behind his blows, but wasn’t doing more than knocking Alex around, so it gave her time to recognize him: he had the glowy stone Moonstone got her powers from implanted in the middle of his chest.

Alex leapt to her feet, but before she could do anything more she was abruptly hit by a bolt of lightning. She’d seen lightning in the distance and had heard thunder, but the close-up experience was utterly different. The bolt was huge and it burned. Alex’s muscles locked up and she felt the coppery taste of blood as she involuntarily bit her tongue. When everything cleared, she was on her hands and knees again.

**XxxxxxX**

“Mister Grimm!” Louise banged on the door to the downstairs bedroom. “Mister Grimm! Something’s happening!”

There was a deafening noise from behind her, somewhere in the living room, and a flare of light that almost burned her shadow into the door. Even in the downstairs hallway, shielded from the worst of the grenade’s effects by a load-bearing wall, Louise collapsed in a heap in front of the Thing’s bedroom door. Her ears were ringing too badly to hear when he spoke to her.

“C’mon kid, get inside! Quick!” The bedroom was shielded from the living room by a wall and a fireplace, but the people crashing in through the front door were going to be here any minute. No time to slow-coach it.

Louise was crying like she had been hit with pepper spray. She was having trouble standing and was breathing in gasps. “Al-lex – sh – said -- pro – gah.” She tried to get an intelligible sentence out, but couldn’t. Her muscles weren’t working, and her brain seemed to hare off in random directions. Her ears were ringing too loudly to hear anything, and all she could see were bright spots.

The Thing led her to a short bookcase and held her up in one hand while he pressed a hidden catch. The bookcase, and the wall behind it, spun as if on a gimbal, revealing a metal door. He pushed that open too, and said, “Climb inside, kid. Don’t worry, it’s a panic room. Built right into the ground. You’ll be safe, don’t worry. Don’t open this door for anyone. Someone will come and get you.”

She couldn’t tell what was going on at all, but allowed the Thing to guide her. She was surprised at how gentle his hands were, given the rocky nature of his skin.

**XxxxxxX**

Alex spit a mouthful of blood out on to the grass, most of which was now blackened if not on fire. She looked up at the Avengers, who were now circled around her. They were outside of what she was sure they thought of as her easy attack range. It wasn’t all of them, just the power-houses. And they’d brought friends. In addition to the new guy wearing the moonstone, there was She-Hulk, the second Iron Man – War Machine, her Xander memories supplied – a gigantically tall, immensely fat woman in a pink leotard, and Mister Fantastic. The latter was even carrying this huge Kirby-esque sci-fi gun, of all things. Surprisingly, it was the empty Iron Man suit that stepped forward. “Stay down, Karen. Surrender and no one else will get hurt. We promise, you’ll get a fair trial.”

She spit out another mouthful of blood. Her tongue really hurt and was bleeding badly. It felt like it was beginning to swell. “Yeah, that’s what I was told the first time, shithead.”

“You’re right. It wasn’t fair, what happened to you. But you must go along with the law. That’s how the system works.” The empty suit raised both hands, the repulsors visibly charged. “Now, let us put some restraints on you. It’s over.”

“Fuck you, Tony.” It was almost a growl. Alex started to stand, only to suddenly have Thor standing over her, hammer raised. She caught his wrist on the down stroke, preventing the blow, but concentrating on stopping Thor’s blow left her open to the others. Sentry had rushed forward and punched her in the gut, putting all his power behind it. Alex felt a rib on her left side snap.

Losing her grip on Thor allowed him to backhand her in the face with the hammer, and suddenly Alex was over the cliff and falling toward the Pacific. The Iron Men and the guys in the green armor followed her down, continually blasting her with repulsors and rotary cannon fire. SHIELD agents on the cliff’s edge were shooting at Alex with handguns and assault rifles. Wonder Man, She-Hulk, Ares, and the unknown fat woman leapt from the cliff top toward the beach, while Thor, Sentry, Wasp, Yellowjacket, and Ms. Marvel took to the air after her.

**XxxxxxX**

Ben Grimm could hear the SHIELD agents enter the house. Naturally they kicked in the front door instead of just opening it; this sort of situation required a dramatic entrance worthy of an action movie, after all. He sighed at the stupidity of the entire exercise and took off his pajamas. They had been a gift from Alicia Masters, and he didn’t want them to get damaged in case some hot-head jamook decided to open up on him with his pistol.

Once his pj’s were out of harm’s way, he dug around in the dresser until he found his credentials, then knelt in the middle of the room. He held his ID in one hand, tapping it against the palm of the other hand. He could hear the SHIELD agents slamming doors open and throwing things around. They’d be here, the only bedroom on the house’s ground floor, any second. He sighed again, then put his hands on top of his head.

In moments, two SHIELD agents stepped through the bedroom door. “Get your hands on your head! Now! Do it!” Grimm complied. He couldn’t help but grin slightly. He knew through experience that those so-called Hulk-buster pistols couldn’t penetrate his rocky hide, but he saw no harm in following instructions. Or letting these yutzes that their pretty popguns weren’t up to the task.

One agent kept Grimm covered while the other checked the room’s attached bathroom, the closet, and under the bed. When the search was over, the agent turned back to him. “Benjamin Grimm, you are under arrest for aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive, aiding a known terrorist, and refusal to comply with the Superhuman Registration Act!”

Grimm almost thanked him. “Yeah, about that, kid. Youse might want to look at this before you take this any farther.” The Thing didn’t lower his hands, but he did wave the leather folder. “It’s okay, I’m not going to bite. I'm going to be a good boy and cooperate to the full extent required by international law.”

The SHIELD agent nodded to his partner, who stepped forward, always careful not to enter the other man’s line of fire, and took the folder and the tablet. He flipped the leather folder open to reveal some sort of ID card. “Um, Agent Cantelton, we, uh, we should probably show this to one of the Agents-In-Charge. Um, and maybe Mr. Stark. This is a diplomatic ID. Says he’s some sort of ambassador plenipotentiary for France. I, uh – I mean he, uh, I think he might have diplomatic immunity.”

“Bullshit.” The officer gestured toward the Thing to stand up. “Zip tie this traitorous son-of-a-bitch and get him out of here.”

“Your funeral, kid.” The Thing put his hands behind his back and turned around, allowing himself to be arrested. He’d be released by noon, and a jail cell was as good as any other place to take a nap while he waited.

Grimm’s eyes never went within five feet of looking at the bookcase.

**XxxxxxX**

Alex could feel her face around her right eye begin to swell from the force of Thor’s hammer. Within moments, her eye might as well have been sewn shut for all that she could see through it.

Alex stopped her fall and spun in the air. She moved toward Iron Man faster than Stark could react. Sitting in his office in New York City, there was a one second delay on his telepresence signal, and one second was enough time for Alex to reach the red metal suit and barrel through it as hard as she could, moving close to the speed of sound. Component pieces of the armored suit rained onto the sandy beach below.

The Wasp and Yellowjacket buzzed her face, obviously trying to blindside her again. Alex snatched Janet van Dyne out of the air with one hand. She clenched her hand, not anywhere as hard as she could, but certainly with pressure on the shrunken body to prevent the Wasp from breathing. Alex held the pressure for a count of 20, then dropped the Wasp’s limp body.

Yellowjacket went berserk on her. He was suddenly no longer four inches tall, but rather was sixty feet tall. Pym slapped Alex against the cliff’s face, an act that drove the breath out of her lungs. When he hauled his massive hand back to repeat the attack, Alex rushed him. She slammed into the center of his chest feet first, knocking him off balance, then came up under his chin like an arrow. The gigantic Yellowjacket crumpled like a ragdoll.

**XxxxxxX**

“Shit!” Tony Stark swore as all his screens went dark. He tore the virtual presence helmet off his head. He turned to the SHIELD staffers who were handling the broadcast’s technical end. “What’s the situation?”

The lead tech just shrugged. “Sir, as far as we can tell the, uh, the suit’s just not there anymore. We’re not getting any response at all from any of the sensor components that were giving us the live feed. None of the telemetry is responding.”

“Perfect. Just perfect.” Stark waved to the big monitors on the wall above them. “Someone put the satellite feed up on these things. I need to talk to whoever is on site and in charge, now. Get me Janet van Dyne, right now!”

“Trying, sir. No response.”

**XxxxxxX**

Alex was punched sideways by more rotary cannon fire coming from War Machine, but she ignored it. She had bigger problems.

Wonder Man had used his rocket belt to tackle her, attempting to drive her into the side of the cliff. Alex twisted in his grasp. He’d just begun to say, “Damn it, girl, we can resc – “when she punched him in the face, with as much force as she could muster given the limitations of leverage. This was Wonder Man; Alex knew he could take it, so she absolutely did not hold back an ounce of her strength. Then she did it again. And a third time. Oddly enough, as she felt Wonder Man go limp, a strange if not completely out of place thought entered Alex’s mind. _No one is quipping. Nobody’s making sarcastic remarks._

War Machine swooped around for another pass with the rotary cannon. Alex ignored the impact, willing herself to remain stable while in flight. She punched Wonder Man twice more as hard as she could, and threw him bodily toward War Machine. The armored man veered out of the way of Wonder Man’s unconscious form, but concentrating on not getting hit gave Alex the necessary cover to close with the armored man. She was abruptly too close to bring the shoulder-mounted weaponry to bear, though it was just as well. Alex closed her hand around the long, thin barrels of the rotary cannon and crushed them together before tearing them loose from their mounting.

There was a flare at the side of Alex’s head. Without pausing, she took a deep breath and puffed both Janet Van Dyne and Hank Pym into the wall of the cliff. They both hit hard and dropped out of sight.

War Machine punched at her ineffectively, then let loose a repulsor blast directly to her chest. Alex grabbed at one of his wrists as a weight landed on her back. Alex ignored the weight as she squeezed the armor tight enough around the armored man’s wrist to cut off blood flow. The fingers of the other hand found the seam between the armor’s chest plate and the central repulsor assembly. Alex wrapped her fingers around it and pulled it and an impressive length of wiring out of the armor almost casually; the back plate, no longer supported by the rest of the armor, fell away as well. The remains of the armor locked into position with the man caught inside – Alex couldn’t remember his name, but thought it started with an R, or maybe a K -- exposed to the air from neck to waist.

Alex dropped War Machine and turned her attention to the weight on her back. She couldn’t tell who it was, but the person had one arm wrapped around her neck while the other was busy ineffectively punching her in the side of the head. She twirled in mid-air like a figure skater, reaching back to grab at whoever it was while she simultaneously tried to throw him from her, but couldn’t get there before two of the green armors grabbed her by an arm each. They pulled out on her arms, trying to immobilize her. Alex snorted and brought the two armored soldiers together. Their suits cracked at the impact, and she dropped them to the beach.

Suddenly Sentry was in front of her, punching toward Alex’s face. She slid sideways in the air just in time to bring the person on her back into the arc of Sentry’s fist. It had apparently been Ms. Marvel. As Alex turned back to the gold-clad Avenger, she could see Carol Danvers bouncing – _BOUNCING_ – across the beach from the force of Sentry's punch.

Alex took a moment to scan her surroundings. Behind Sentry, Alex could see the new moonstone guy swooping up and around in some sort of flanking attack. The green guys were circling, waiting for an opening as well. Alex had lost sight of the fat girl and Ares. She had no idea where She-Hulk or Thor were. The shrinkers looked to be finally out of the fight. War Machine and the empty Iron Man suit were done for the day. Who knew what Mister Fantastic was up to.

As she ducked under Sentry’s follow-up punch, the new Moonstone guy pasted Alex with some sort of light beam, and Alex felt a surge in her strength. She almost thanked him. Sentry led with another jab and Alex caught the man’s hand in his own. She kicked the man in the chest, dead-center. Still holding on to his hand. Once again, Moonstone hit her with a light blast, and once again Alex felt herself become stronger. Then a third time. It didn’t matter. She kept her grip on Sentry and channeled the new power into hitting Sentry as hard as she could.

She kept up with him as he flew backward, punching him the entire time. Not aware of where he was in comparison, Sentry slammed into the cliff face backward just as she caught him in the throat with a jab. She pulled back her arm, telegraphing the haymaker to the point that blind people could have seen it coming. Time slowed for Alex. There was a loud explosive sound as her fist broke the sound barrier on its way to Sentry’s face. The impact caused shockwaves that cracked the stone of the cliff and broke windows in the house.

Alex left Sentry imbedded in the rock wall, unconscious. She turned her attention to Moonstone. He was dipping and dodging and continually feeding Alex’s power by firing the bursts of light at her. Alex twisted in mid-air and rose toward him, but she never made it. Instead, a large, meaty hand wrapped around Alex’s right ankle and pulled her toward the ground.

It was the fat woman. Still grasping Alex’s ankle, the fat woman swung Alex overhand, slamming her into the beach, then again into the cliff wall, and then again into the beach. She finally swung Alex outward. Spinning quickly, Alex had only a moment to realize that she was being tossed toward someone else.

That was when She-Hulk hit her with the uprooted tree.

Alex skipped across the surface of the water like a human stone. Several of the green armored men followed Alex’s course, sniping at her with repulsor blasts. Alex hit the water one last time and sank.

The sudden immersion after being slammed around confused Alex. She couldn’t tell up from down right away, and one of her opponents took advantage of it. Ms. Marvel followed Alex into the water, grabbing at the thrashing Kryptonian from behind. The Avenger flew out of the surf, carrying Alex along. When they were clear of the water, Marvel tossed Alex upward into the sky. Alex had just enough time to straighten herself when she was hit by another lightning bolt. She dropped from the sky into the shallow water, stunned again. She hurt everywhere. She was certain that Sentry had broken another of her ribs, and the lightning wasn’t helping.

Alex knew that she couldn’t keep it up indefinitely. Sure, she was powerful – more powerful than any one of her opponents, including Thor – but there was an army here, and she was getting tired. Alex stood up in the waist-deep surf and immediately ducked. Marvel was back. As the female Avenger swooped past her, arm extended for the punch that never landed, Alex snagged her by the leg. She pulled the woman into easy reach, wrapped her arms around Ms. Marvel’s chest, and squeezed, hard. She kept the pressure up as she felt several bones in Carol Danvers' shoulders and ribs give way. Alex added a final punch to the back of her opponent's head, rendering Ms. Marvel unconscious.

Alex turned toward the beach and stopped, abruptly. Thor stood on the beach, staring at her. The god of thunder was flanked by She-Hulk, the fat lady, and Ares. All of them were just staring. Clearly, they were angry. Above the water, the green armored men were circling. Occasionally, they’d fire their weapons at Alex, but she was continuing to simply shrug their weapons fire off. Almost contemptuously, Alex tossed the crippled Ms. Marvel toward her team mates.

While their eyes followed Danvers' injured body, Alex quick-snapped her heat vision at each of the armored men in the sky and they all fell, yelling out in pain as their suits overheated into malfunction.

Then she turned back to the Avengers on the beach. Something slammed into her from behind and the other Avengers surged forward. Thor lead with his hammer, and it struck a glancing blow off Alex’s side. She felt another rib break; at this point she felt she had more broken ribs than whole ones, but she couldn't stop. She couldn't let up.

The impact of the hammer spun her, allowing her to see the person who had attacked from behind. It was the new Moonstone. The man couldn’t have been more than 25, but he was wading in with enthusiasm. Alex blocked a punch, then another, turning the fight to block the oncoming Avengers with Moonstone’s own body.

It didn’t quite work as Alex planned. She managed to block a third punch before She-Hulk and the unknown fat-lady reached her. She-Hulk slammed Alex across the jaw and Alex stumbled, giving the other woman an opening to punch her from the other side. Moonstone – who Alex was beginning to label ‘the little shit’ in her mind – then did her the great favor of letting loose with a full-strength blast of light. Alex felt her broken ribs begin to heal themselves.

Determined, Alex ignored the fat woman and Moonstone and turned her attention solely to She-Hulk. She grabbed the green Avenger by the shoulders, and had just lifted She-Hulk into the air, when Thor’s hammer once again hit her.

Alex was spun from the impact, but not as badly as she had the last time. She saw Thor hanging back while Ares advanced on her. “All right, Greenie. Sorry about this.” She shifted her grip to She-Hulk’s right arm and swung the green Avenger like she was a Louisville Slugger. Centrifugal force caused She-Hulk to fly outward, and Alex used her like a club. The fat woman was batted away with ease, while Moonstone managed to dive out of range. Her immediate vicinity clear except for Ares, who was still just out of arm’s reach, Alex threw She-Hulk at Thor as hard and as fast as she could. The god of thunder hadn’t been expecting that tactic, and the two Avengers went down in a heap.

“I must congratulate you on taking down most of your foes.” Ares said as he strode forward. “I won’t be brought low so easily.”

Alex smiled at him. “I know. Sorry to disappoint you.” She leapt into the air and was at the top of the cliff in an instant. The SHIELD agents she suddenly found herself surrounded by fired up on her with their guns again, but she ignored them. Alex looked around, jacking her eyes up into the x-ray spectrum to check on Louise. To her relief, she was still well-hidden inside what looked like a bank vault of all things. Alex was suddenly swamped. A group of the SHIELD agents threw themselves on top of her.

“Are you assholes kidding, or what?”

The move was so unexpected that for a moment the attackers managed to drive her to one knee. They had little further effect, and within moments she was tossing them around like they were playground toys.

Just as she freed herself from the last of the SHIELD agents, there was a flare of blue light to her right. Alex found herself crashing into the side of the house. Her clothes were on fire and she felt sunburned all over. Blinking, Alex saw Reed Richards doing – something – to the enormous futuristic ray-gun in his hands while the SHIELD agents continued to shoot at her with their guns.

Richards pointed the gun in Alex’s direction but before he could fire again, Moonstone dropped onto Alex hard. He punched her twice, and when he hauled his fist back for a third try, she throat-punched him. He fell back away from her, clawing at his throat as he gasped for air. “I am so very tired of you.” Alex was wheezing. She grabbed the man’s costume in a bunch, her fingers wrapping themselves around the large glowing stone that sat in the middle of his chest. She pulled her other arm back to hit him when she sensed movement to her right. The bright blue bolt of energy struck, and she shifted just in time to put Moonstone in its path.

The new hero was knocked violently away from her by the force of the strike. The moonstone Alex had been holding him by was torn from his chest in a spray of blood. The man landed in a heap a few yards away, and Alex could hear him fight to keep breathing. 

More SHIELD agents targeted her, and a handful of bullets ricocheted from her skin. Alex ignored them again. She turned and pitched the moonstone at Richards overhand. The gemstone bounced off the man’s rubberized skull with enough force to shift his aim as he fired his weapon again. The blue-white bolt of energy careened through one corner of the house’s eaves, disintegrating wood and shingle as it went. Where the bolt of energy touched, the house caught fire.

Alex dove at Richards, but was intercepted again by Thor’s hammer. It struck her right above her hip on her left side. Alex was knocked out of the air. She bounced twice before coming to a stop at the lip of the house’s driveway. Before she could climb to her feet she was dogpiled by SHIELD agents again.

“You people never learn! What are you, stupid?”

She tossed the last of them away and turned. Unfortunately, she turned toward her blind side and did not see who was approaching until it was far too late. She-Hulk had made it to the top of the cliff as well, and she looked angry. The green giantess punched her twice more, obviously putting her all into it. The impact knocked Alex back on her heels. From her other side, Ares had moved in close and began striking Alex with powerful blows to her body.

Alex growled. She slapped Ares with a backhand; he slammed into the ground and rolled, but popped back onto his feat almost instantly. Alex caught She-Hulk’s incoming fist by the wrist. She crouched suddenly, pulling the larger woman’s arm straight down with her, pulling She-Hulk’s entire body into an off-balance lean, and followed the maneuver with a kick to her now-exposed elbow. The joint snapped like a twig. She-Hulk screamed in pain, her eyes wide at the sight of her own right arm bending in a way it absolutely was not supposed to bend. Alex jumped into the air – levitated would be the more accurate word – and kicked the green woman under the chin. She-Hulk flipped backward in place, unconscious before she hit the ground.

Alex blinked, then ducked with barely enough time to avoid getting hit again by Thor’s hammer. The god of thunder flew at her. Alex side-stepped and grabbed Thor by the cape as he passed. She tugged on the fabric, expecting to be able to use it as a whipcord against him, but the cloth tore easily. Thor wasn’t even slowed down. With one hand, he caught the hammer on the return and with the other he backhanded her in the face again.

As Alex stumbled back away from Thor, Ares tackled her, trying to bring her to the ground. She rolled with his weight, turning his takedown into a tumble. While entangled with him, she rabbit-punched him in the kidneys, pushing him away enough for her to regain her feet.

Thor was there, bringing down his hammer on her head with both hands. She caught the weapon on the heel of her palm and the shockwave made her numb from wrist to shoulder. Thor looked honestly surprised that Alex could accomplish this, and she took advantage of it. She kicked Thor in the crotch, twice. His surprised expression suddenly become an extremely pained one and he released the hammer right into Alex’s waiting hands.

Thor bent forward, still in pain. For a long second, the fact that she was lifting Mjolnir caused Alex to pause. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, she swung for the fences, slamming Thor across the face with his own weapon. The god flew as if propelled by rockets, over the cliff and out of sight.

Before she could do anything else, Ares struck. He had moved in close while she was concentrating on Thor, and before she could take advantage of the weapon in her hand the god of war had used – something, some fancy disarm maneuver. Thor’s hammer spun away into the shadows. But it gave Alex an opportunity to dive away from Ares’s follow-up strike.

Alex rolled to her feet and turned to face Ares. He was bouncing toward her on the balls of his feet like a boxer. “Okay, big guy; let’s see what you got,” she taunted. The Greek god almost grinned at her as he approached, his hands up in a guard position. She wasn’t grinning, but met him halfway. She made no effort to defend herself, and Ares took advantage of it. He lashed out with one massive fist, catching Alex square in the face. She barely budged, but instead returned his grin with a feral baring of teeth that would have only been considered a grin if it was on the face of a serial killer. She raised her own fist and hit him back. Ares didn’t go down, but judging by the grunt he was unable to hold back, that punch had hurt. For a second the two just looked at each other. Despite her height and physical statute, Ares was nearly twice Alex’s body mass, and he hadn’t expected her to do that much damage with a single blow.

Then suddenly both were in motion. Blows fell quicker than the eye could see: punches, kicks, and various martial arts moves from the god, rough and undisciplined street-fighting brawl-punches from the girl.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alex could see Reed Richards and half a dozen SHIELD agents watching their fight. All of them were pretty obviously looking for an opportunity to shoot at the combatants without doing Ares any harm. The expressions on their faces told the story: they knew how strong the gods of mythology were, knew how hard it was to hurt one of these mythic beings, knew that they could heal injuries almost as quickly as they could be inflicted. But this was something different. Alex was faster than Ares, and she was using her speed to avoid getting hit. The few times Ares could get through her guard, she seemed to simply shrug it off and hit him back twice as hard.

Ares was by far the more skilled fighter, but his skill didn’t matter. She was too strong, too hard to hurt, and too fast. Her own fighting technique was graceless and awkward; she was a brawler at best, not a martial artist. The god’s martial skill was enough to prevent him from being crushed by his opponent immediately, but it was clear to everyone watching that it was only a matter of time. Alex was simply too much for him. Within a minute, she’d found his cadence and was working through his defensive skills. It was brute force, nothing more. For every strike she landed, Ares blocked four, but in blocking was taking terrible damage to his own arms.

Once it was clear that Ares was reaching his limits, he suddenly unleashed a desperate all-or-nothing series of blows which managed to get past Alex’s defenses. He hit her five, six, seven times, opening cuts on her lip and above her already closed eye. Ares was finally able to get a hand on one of her arms. The god of war tried to use his superior mass and knowledge of martial arts against her. Unfortunately, she was far too strong, and despite the vast difference in size, Alex simply grabbed the arm holding hers and twisted it aside. Ares resisted with every fiber of his being.

The loud snapping of the bones in his arm could be heard over the noise of the thunderstorm raging around the two fighters. Ares went down, exhausted and covered in sweat, visibly shaking from the pain of not only a broken arm but the bone-deep bruises the girl had covered him with. He knelt in front of her, helpless. Ares didn’t cry out, didn’t beg for mercy. He simply met her gaze and held it, unable to even rise back to his feet.

Alex wiped blood out of her eyes. “Stay down. Just – stay down.” She waved a tired hand at him, begging him to comply. She turned in a random circle, looking for the next attack. A fusillade of bullets struck her from the assembled SHIELD agents, but compared to getting hit by Thor’s hammer or by one of Sentry’s punches, they were barely recognizable as impacts.

Alex realized that, with Ares effectively out of the game, it was just her and Reed Richards, that gun of his, and the few remaining SHIELD agents still standing. She could ignore the SHIELD agents. Richards, on the other hand, was adjusting something on the gun, while simultaneously trying to keep track of her. Alex rolled her eyes.

“Dr. Richards, if you try to point that thing at me I’m going to make you eat it, swear to fucking Christ.” She turned her glare to the SHIELD agents. “And you assholes – you don’t make a move. Pretend you’re fucking statues!”

The SHIELD agents froze. Their fear was palpable; she could almost smell the stink of it coming from them. Richards was still adjusting it as she approached him. She got within arm’s length and he stopped. Just stopped. With a sigh, he put the gun on the ground.

“What are you going to do now?” he asked.

“Well, first I’m going to do this.” Alex inhaled sharply, then put extra force into exhaling. She coated Richards in a half-inch of frost. “Not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t trust you.” She eyeballed the SHIELD agents again. One of them even jammed his hands in the air.

“Hmm… interesting.” Richards’s teeth were chattering. “In cold temperatures, ductile material becomes brittle. You just nullified my powers while doing minimal harm to me. I take it this will melt before it does permanent damage?” She could see his lips were beginning to turn blue.

Alex shrugged. “Don’t know, really. Don’t care.”

**XxxxxxX**

“Someone find out what’s going on! I don’t care if you have to rig together two tin cans and a fuck-ton of string, I need intel and I need it right now!” Tony Stark watched the satellite feed. The thunderstorm was making everything murky. Real time cameras couldn’t get through the cloud cover, and the thermographic imaging was being thrown off by the drop in temperatures caused by the rain.

“Mister Stark?”

“What? What is it?” Stark whirled. It was what’s-her-name. Pepper’s temporary replacement while Pepper was in the hospital getting her appendix out. Kerry? Karen? No… “Carla?”

The girl shrunk back, almost as if expecting Stark to hit her. “Sorry, Mister Stark, sorry. But there’s someone on the phone for you. Says it’s ‘most urgent’ and cannot wait.”

“Get their name and number and tell them I’ll return the call when I have time. Would someone find out what the hell is going on out there?” The girl and the phone call were promptly forgotten.

“We’re trying sir. I’m getting no answer on any of the command channels.” The lead tech shook his head. “It’s like they all decided to turn off their radios at once.”

“Uh, Mister Stark?”

Tony Stark whirled on Carla, who was still holding the phone out for him. “Take a damned message! Can’t you see – “

“But Mister Stark! He says he’s the French Foreign Minister. He needs to talk to you right now he says, about some diplomatic incident you’re provoking that could – um – here!”

Stark stared at her. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down, counted to twenty-four in Base 12, and took the phone.

“Minister Douste-Blazy, how nice to speak to you again. Now is not a truly convenient time, can I ask that you –” Stark stopped talking, as the man on the other end of the phone interrupted.

“…”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t received any word…”

“…”

“I see.”

“…”

“Yes, that does make sense. I agree.”

“---“

“Well, we wouldn’t want that. France is the oldest, not to mention one of the closest, allies the United States has. We –”

“…”

Stark sighed. “Certainly. I will see to it personally. Thank you, Philippe. Yes. Thank you. I appreciate the call. It will be expedited. Au revoir.”

Stark handed the girl back the receiver. He lifted a hand to his forehead and rubbed at it for a moment before slapping the heel of his hand into the side of his head three times in quick succession. “And now we have to tell the President that SHIELD just caused a problem with one of our biggest allies by arresting one of their ambassadors. Great. Just great.”

**XxxxxxX**

“I can’t just let you wander around like this. You’re under arrest. We have a warrant and everything.” The commanding SHIELD agent and two of his flunkies had followed Alex into the house. He’d been surprised when it turned out that out of the eighteen agents left conscious, he was the highest ranking. In the original team’s hierarchy, he was eleventh in line.

“Yeah, well, uh… what’s your name?”

“Um... Koch. Ryan Koch. Agent. Agent Ryan Korch.”

“Okay, Ryan. Here’s the deal. I’m going to rescue my girlfriend, and then we’re going to hit the road. We are gone like a bad dream. If you try to stop me, I’m going to hurt you. If you try to hurt my girlfriend, I may just have to kill you. Now, I don’t want to do either, and I know you don’t want me to do either. So just stand back and stay out of the way. That way, you don’t get hurt and I don’t hurt you.”

“Uh – “The agent looked to his comrades. The other two men shrugged.

Alex led the group to the downstairs bedroom. She didn’t even bother with the catch, just pulled the bookcase away from the door. She did the same with the inner door. There lay Louise, curled up into a ball and sleeping. There were bruises around one side of her face, and snot had dried under her nose, but she seemed otherwise unharmed.

“Louise, come on. We’re leaving.” Alex gently shook Louise’s leg. The other girl awoke with a start, but calmed instantly. Louise climbed out of the panic room, then allowed Alex to pick her up and carry her.

“Oh God! Alexandra! What did they do to you?” Louise held a hand up to Alex’s face, gently. Alex couldn’t help put pull her face away. Her eye was still swollen closed, and she was still bleeding, if only a little. She could also feel her ribs grinding at her with every step. She ignored it.

“Nothing that some bed rest and a truckload of Tylenol won’t cure, baby. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

Alex nodded. The nod was returned, and Louise kissed her gently on her unbruised cheek.

“Uh… why is she calling you Alex? I thought your name was Karen something? Our arrest warrant is for Karen Starr. I thought that was you.” Alex stared at the SHIELD agent stupid enough to ask that question for a moment. He stared back.

Worse, Agent Koch and his two buddies were blocking the door. “Do you mind?” Alex stood there, not saying anything more. Eventually, and quite sheepishly, moved out of her way. She carried Louise out of the shattered front door. In the house’s driveway were a line of SUVs and step vans leading back to the gate. She picked one at random and approached it.

Off to one side, behind one of the vans, Alex could see Ben Grimm on his knees in the grass, guarded by two agents. His hands were zip-tied behind him. If she had the man figured right, he could pop that little plastic strip just by shrugging his shoulders. Alex wondered why he hadn’t. Didn’t matter in the long run. She opened the back seat of the SUV she had chosen and laid Louise down on it, gently.

“Don’t forget to buckle up, sweetie. Might get bumpy.”

Alex closed the door and turned to face the agents, only to find that the fat woman was back. The woman’s face was badly bruised. The two stared at one another, and Alex could see a modicum of fear in the fat woman’s eyes.

“I just can’t let you leave,” the woman said.

“Look – crap, I don’t even know who you are.” Alex shook her head.

“Bertha. Big Bertha.”

“Big Bertha? Really? Wow.” Alex snorted. “Okay, Bertha. Look. You and I both know you don’t have a chance against me. Not a damned chance in the world. I just cold-cocked Thor and beat Ares into the ground. I could throw you into San Francisco Bay from here if I really wanted. So how about we finish the random threats, skip the fight, assume you’d have gone down faster than a submarine with screen doors, and I’ll take my friend and go, okay? I’m tired and hurt, and you’re tired and hurt, and I don’t feel like putting you in the hospital if I don’t have to. This way, you save yourself a beating, and I save myself the heart-ache of having to intentionally hurting one of the good guys who's doing what she thinks is the right thing, okay?”

For a moment, it looked to Alex like Bertha was going to go with it. But then the fat woman gritted her teeth and swung. Alex caught her fist, then caught the other one as well when Bertha tried again. She sighed and rose in to the air. The fat woman – Big Bertha – dangling from her hands like a balloon that was losing air.

“Look, I’m serious. This is me barely trying. So quit it, okay?” She dropped the fat woman in the house’s small swimming pool and returned to the SUV. Louise was asleep, curled up as best she could on the back seat. Alex nodded at the sight. She knew exactly how Louise felt.

Alex lifted the SUV, careful not to jostle its sole passenger any more than she had to. The effort hurt her ribs and caused an open cut on her shoulder to start bleeding, but again, she ignored it. With the weight of it balanced along the length of her own body, she vanished into the air, heading for Los Angeles. She knew the perfect place to hide.

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The house at which I set this battle is real. It is owned by my good friend, Eddie Deezen. If you’ve never heard of him, Eddie’s an actor and a minor celebrity who, while not being a leading man, is just famous enough as a character actor (not to mention as an occasional voice actor) to land on people’s “Hey It’s That Guy” List. He’s been in some big movies with some big names. He’s shared the screen with John Travolta, Hal Holbrook, Tom Hanks, Tony Shaloub, Matthew Broderick, Tom Selleck, and many, many more. And he’s a down-to-earth nice guy on top of it all, and funny! And when I asked him if he minded if I used his house as the setting for this fight, he gave me the okay.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, Philippe Douste Blazy au Quai d'Orsay is a real person. He was an elected member of the National Assembly of France, and held several cabinet positions in the French government. From 2005 to 2007, he served as the French Foreign Minister. He has since retired from politics and returned to his pre-election life as a civil attorney.


	17. Dragged Into the Harsh Light of Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“Publicity is justly commended as a remedy for social and industrial diseases. Sunlight is said to be the best of disinfectants; electric light the most efficient policeman.” – **Justice Louis D. Brandeis**_

**XxxxxxX**

The communications tech was nobody. She wasn’t even considered an agent. Just technical support. She was hired by SHIELD because her grades at MIT were exemplary and she made it past several dozen psychological screenings and a background check that made the one used by the CIA to vet their recruits look like open hire day at McDonald’s.

But still, she was nobody. There were a maybe a million people around the world who could do her job, if not more. But she was the one working at SHIELD. And when two people, both of whom were legends in the organization, came to her and asked her to perform an act that was technically treason, she hesitated. She hesitated because usually when nobodies like her did this sort of thing, they tended to abruptly became somebodies. Somebodies with prison records. Somebodies whose picture was splashed all over FOX News with the word 'traitor' slapped beneath it. She liked being a faceless nobody in a mid-level office doing a boring job. It was steady work, nobody bothered her, and she was well-paid for it.

In the end, though, she decided that she would help. Which was why she was sitting in her car in an alley behind an all-night internet cafe at one in the morning, using a black box laptop to upload a certain file to YouTube. Shortly, she would upload certain documents to the Sunshine Press, to Rolling Stone Magazine, to the New York Times, to Time Magazine, and to as many other spots on the internet as she could. And shortly thereafter she was going to find a nice, out-of-the-way trashcan and set the laptop on fire.

What decided it for her wasn’t the situation. The two men had explained what was going on with this girl Karen Starr, and she was sympathetic. The girl had been run roughshod over and someone needed to help her. But it was the trust the two men showed in her that was the kicker. They knew she could do the job anonymously, covering not only her own tracks but their involvement as well. And they didn’t threaten, or cajole, or browbeat. They merely explained what was going on and then asked if she could help. They even told her that if she refused and reported them, they’d understand. She’d never been trusted by anyone to that level before. What’s more, they both knew her name. She, a desk-bound tech weenie who worked on the twenty-second floor of SHIELD’s Los Angeles headquarters. It spoke volumes to her.

There was one thing, though. She chalked it up to being some personal in-joke she wasn’t party to. When she asked the two why they chose to approach her, out of all the possible communications techs they could have approached, both men had just smirked and made an off-hand comment about destiny that made no sense at all.

The reason why Willow Rosenberg didn’t get the joke was that she’d never been a huge watcher of television. She’d vaguely heard of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ , but hadn’t seen a single episode.

  
**XxxxxxX**  


Within three hours, the video footage of the Avengers and SHIELD getting their asses kicked by a barefoot teenager in blue jeans and a Pussycat Dolls t-shirt had reached a half million views. Within six hours, it had over three million views, and had been shared on Facebook and other social media sites nearly ten thousand times. The _New York Times_ had altered their headline for the morning edition to account for the documents they’d been sent. So did the _Los Angeles Times_ , and the _Chicago Herald_. The _Sunshine Press_ was offering Karen Starr’s full, unexpurgated file as a downloadable .pdf.

While this was happening, Willow Rosenberg was driving up the Pacific Coast highway to visit her mother and father in Santa Barbara. The two men had told her that the last place she wanted to be was the Los Angeles SHIELD office when the shit hit the fan, so before undertaking their mission, she'd arranged a couple of vacation days. Safe in her existence as a faceless nobody, she was looking forward to seeing her parents.

  
**XxxxxxX**

 

One by one they assembled outside of the oval office. Tony Stark, Norman Osborn, Henry Peter Gyrich, and General Thaddeus Ross. The president’s executive secretary pointed them toward a row of chairs near the desk without asking what they needed, which told all of them that they were expected. They were one chair short. As Secretary of Defense in addition to being Director of SHIELD, Tony Stark technically outranked everyone else in the room, including the four-star general, but he was the one who decided to remain standing.

The group waited nearly twenty-four minutes. It drove Stark up the wall. He hated wasting time, and that’s all this power play in the anteroom was. A big waste of time. It was the President – or more likely the Vice President, given the nature of George W. Bush’s administration – showing the peons who was in charge. Utterly unnecessary, and it was time that Stark could use for other things, like hunting down Captain America or redesigning the Sparrowhawk missile.

But eventually the secretary’s phone buzzed, and they were shown into the Oval Office. The President was sitting down, speaking into the telephone. The vice-president was pacing on the far side of the Resolute Desk, flanked by the White House Chief of Staff.

“No, no… I understand, Jean. I get it. Sure. Now, I’m sure that’s not goin’ to be – Jean, I don’t see why we can’t just keep this all friendly like. All right, Jean, I’ll expect his call. Bye, now.”

Tony Stark watched President George W. Bush slam the telephone receiver on its cradle over and over again, each time punctuating the impact with a loud “Motherfucker!”. After seven or eight repetitions of this, the man had apparently worked the frustration out of his system. He looked to his vice president and said, “Goddamn frogs are gonna cause us some trouble over this, Dick. Sure-an-guaran-damn-tee.” He only then seemed to take notice of the newcomers.

“Come on in, fellas. Come on in.” The president was seated at the Resolute Desk, his hands folded in front of him. Stark had noted that the man seemed capable of only about six facial expressions, and this one looked to be his 'I Just Smelled a Turd' look. “Tony, Norm, Pete, General Ross. Come on in and sit down.” Vice President Cheney stood to one side, glaring at them as they entered. He had his usual pissed off at the world look to him. “Go ahead and have a seat fellas.”

“Tony, you might be interested to know what I was just told by Ambassador Levitte, just now. He said that, uh, in response to our illegal arrest of one of their ambassadors, the Republique Francaise is freezing all American governmental and corporate assets until, uh, well, until this mess is all cleared up, and that iffen we don’t clear it up right quick, they’re considerin’ nationalizin’ it all.” The president rubbed his forehead, as if he felt a migraine coming on. “He mentioned Stark Industries assets in particular. Just thought you might like to know, in case your stock values go down all sudden like.”

Tony Stark opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. _Were things really in such a poor shape as that?_ “I don’t really know what to say in response to that, Mr. President.”

“Why am I not surprised. Anybody else want coffee?” When no one else bit, the president buzzed his secretary and asked for a pot of coffee and three Tylenol. It was brought in almost immediately, which gave Stark the idea that they had a pot of coffee waiting at hand at all times.

The silence began. Cheney kept glaring, while President Bush took his painkillers with his coffee. Tony Stark stared at his hands for a long moment, not sure where to begin. After a while, Bush sighed. He pulled a folded-up newspaper out of a drawer in his desk and tapped it.

“You know, it’s interestin’ about the French. We make all kinda jokes about ‘em being pussies and weak, and – what was that joke again, Dick? The one from _The Simpsons_?” Bush asked.

“Cheese-eating surrender monkeys.”

“Right, there you go. Cheese eatin’ surrender monkeys. Man, you just gotta love _The Simpsons_ , don't ya? Funny shit, that show. Anyway, we all know that we talk a lot of shit about the French in this country. But I happen to know the truth, and the truth is, those Frogs are a bunch of vicious assholes who can really throw down when they wanna. Nothin' more dangerous than a pissed-off Frenchman. They go right for the throat, and iffen they can't kill you straight off, they go into hiding until your all relaxed like and them come at you sideways. Hell, half of the words in the English language we use to talk about warfare we got from the French.” The President glanced at the men now sitting before him. “Did you fellas know that?”

The three looked at each other. Then General Ross cleared his throat. “Well, actually I did, yes.”

“Yep, it’s true. _Artillery. Maneuver. Battalion._ All French words. And while I know in the end we’d come out on top, this bein’ ‘Murica and all, I don’t wanna get into a pissin’ contest with ‘em because a war like that, too many 'Muricans would get themselves kilt.” With that, the president reached into a drawer in his desk and pulled out a small pile of documents. Three newspapers and a handful of magazines.

“So.” President Bush began. “Anybody read the paper this morning? Maybe check up on _Time Magazine_ , or _Newsweek_?” He stared at the newspaper laid out on his desk as if it were a viper about to bite him. “Absolutely fascinatin’ headline here in the _Washington Journal_. It says, _‘SHIELD and Avengers on Hunt for Teenage Girl.'_ Then, when you get into the story, it talks all about how this girl was held in a cell without cause for six months. It says that after she registered and got all legal-like, got herself all in compliance with the law, the gubbment – that’s us, fellas – decided that she couldn’t just be let go free after all. And lastly, it says that since she was scairt of goin' to prison for the rest of her life, she ran and we chased her.”

He stared at the four of them. “Damnedest story I ever read. I don’t think I’ve read any story quite like that before. How ‘bout you, Dick? You ever read a story like that before?”

“No.” The Vice President was almost shaking, he was so angry. “No, I’ve never read a story like that one before, Mister President.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Bush pursed his lips, ten shook his head. “Condy tells me that there’s this video on the internet. Shows the Avengers getting’ their fucking heads handed to them by a teenage girl. A girl, I might remind you, that SHIELD’s been hunting for better on a month now. A girl that at least one of you have said would be easy to take down.”

Suddenly, Norman Osborn couldn’t meet anybody’s eyes.

“Okay, so nobody wants to read the paper. Well, that’s okay. We’re goin’ to talk about this story anyway. We’re goin’ to talk about it all day if we have to.” The president swept the newspaper back into his desk drawer. “But come sundown, there’s two things’ll be true that ain’t true right now. Number one is, I’m gonna know who it was told the press about what was goin’ on with this girl. And number two, I’m gonna have somebody’s ass in my briefcase!”

The men in the room all exchanged glances. Stark was the only one still playing it cool, and he was watching the other men very carefully. The president, the vice-president, and General Ross all looked mad enough to chew nails. Osborn looked nervous. Gyrich looked arrogantly smug. Of course, Gyrich always looked arrogantly smug.

“So. Which one of you fellas wants to go first?” Bush looked from one to the other, awaiting an explanation. No one said anything. “Anyone?” The president waiting in silent for a moment. “All right, that’s fine. Dick, why don’t you go get a few Federal Marshalls. We’ll go ahead and start – “

“We had a leak, Mr. President,” Gyrich began. “We’re currently looking into who had – “

“A LEAK!?!” Bush stood abruptly. “You call what’s goin’ on here a leak? Boy, let me tell you, the last time there was a leak like this, Noah built his-self a boat!” The man was red-faced, obviously outraged.

“As I was about to say, Mr. President, we’re in the middle of investigating everyone who had access to this information, from the agent who recorded the footage to the clerks who handle the files. They’re all going under the microscope.”

“That’ll plug the leak. What are we going to do about the PR aspect of this problem?” Vice-President Cheney was still gritting his teeth. “The general public might be only slightly smarter than a pack of trained monkeys, but they love a sob story. And a blonde-haired, blue-eyed teenager being hounded by the government who want to kidnap her for some nefarious purpose? That’s going to tug on the heartstrings of every mother in America. The fact that she’s got tit’s like a missile’s nosecone is going to appeal to all the men.”

Tony Stark successfully hid the grimace at the vice-president’s words. “Sir, you might want to tone that down. She’s only seventeen.”

Cheney glared at him. “I’ve read her file. She’s a runaway lesbian powerhouse with a _Playboy_ centerfold body and who can apparently lift aircraft carriers over her head. Did I miss anything, Stark? Have I forgotten any of the important details?”

“How about the fact that she’s only a kid? I think we all lost sight of that. I know I certainly did.” Stark bristled. He wasn’t going to let an asshole like Dick Cheney talk to him like that, Vice-President or not. “Mr. Cheney, I know you don’t really give a shit about other people except for how they can be of use to you, but pull your head out of your ass for two seconds. This girl is just a kid, and kids lash out when they’re scared.”

“Scared kid my white ass,” General Ross snorted. “Scared kids don’t cause millions of dollars of damage.”

“She’s a scared kid!” Stark was almost screaming. At this point, he could give a shit about his position in the government.

“No, Mr. Secretary, she isn’t.” Henry Peter Gyrich cleared his throat. “She isn’t Karen Starr, either, remember? She’s something else. We know Karen Starr was murdered by her father, remember? He’s still awaiting trial in Ohio. The truth is we don’t even know she’s human. We can’t analyze her DNA, remember?”

“Oh, for crying out loud. Really?” Stark couldn’t believe his ears. “That's your defense for hounding a child? That she's not human?”

Gyrich didn’t even blink. “Yes. Exactly. Because she’s clearly not a human being, despite what she looks like, my office has classified her as a strategically useful animal. As such, she is the property of the federal government.”

“I sincerely hope that the press never hears you say that.” Stark was livid. “That’s the same reason the Confederacy gave for not doing it when General Patrick Cleburne proposed freeing slaves who volunteered to fight on behalf of the South in the Civil War.”

“Now wait just a God damned minute, you – “

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Stark interrupted. “Did you not mean to imply that this girl, as well as anyone else out there whose status as _Homo sapiens_ might be in question, was property and not a person?”

“Gentlemen, this isn’t helpin’ anything.” The president interjected. “What are we gonna do about this mess?”

“Mr. President, I think the only thing we can do is give up pursuit of the girl. The entire operation has been nothing more than a huge waste of time, effort, money, and in three specific cases, lives.” Stark sat back down on one of the couches that faced the Resolute Desk. “I am aware, as Henry is about to point out, that the girl has actually committed crimes for which she should be prosecuted. Not only did she kill Benjamin Poindexter, Chen Lu, and MacDonald Gargan, she – “

“Who?” Bush asked.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Who’s this Poindexter guy? Sounds like a nerd.” The president chuckled to himself, as if he had just made the funniest joke in the world. “And, uh, the other two.”

“Bullseye’s real name was Benjamin Poindexter, Mr. President. The other two would be Venom and the Radioactive Man.” Stark could feel the migraine building; his temples were beginning to throb. As a proud member of the Republican Party, Tony Stark was glad that an anti-business socialist like Al Gore hadn’t been elected, but he’d never understand how the American public thought a baboon like George W. Bush was qualified to run for dog catcher, much less President of the United States.

He took a deep breath and tried to keep himself calm. “As I was saying, not only is she responsible for three deaths, there’s also the burglary charge – “

“Burglary? She broke in someplace?” The president pronounced the word “byooglary”, like the girl had been unlawfully playing a brass instrument.

“Uh, yes sir. She broke into Macy’s and stole some clothing. Plus, there’s the destruction of a government jet, damage to a public parking structure, vandalism of a hospital’s windows, destruction of property when she threw Wonder Man through a clothing business. Oh, and when she used a pick-up truck as a weapon. Guess we could call it malicious mischief.”

Gyrich snorted. “If we’re going to kitchen sink the criminal charges, let’s add evading pursuit and resisting arrest.”

“The girl’s been busy.” Cheney snorted. Stark was amazed that the man even snorted in a sinister manner.

“That she has.” Stark sighed. “Anyway, I no longer think that it is worth it for the Federal government to pursue the arrest and prosecution of Karen Starr, not because I’m turning a blind eye – “

“Why do you call her that?” Bush asked.

Stark stopped, off-footed. “Um. What’s that, Mr. President?”

“Well, I’ve seen the SHIELD report. Karen Starr is a bag of bones hid in her daddy’s soybean field. Why do you call this girl Karen Starr? Makes no sense to me.” Bush shook his head. “And what’s up with that? She a zombie or somethin’?”

“Well – we’re not sure, sir. In my time as an Avenger, I’ve seen a lot of odd things.” Stark shrugged. “Uh, the simplest explanation is that she’s a clone of some kind, in which case she’s not so much Karen Starr as Karen Starr’s daughter. She could – “

“Wait, daughter? What do you mean daughter?” Cheney asked.

It was Gyrich that answered. “Technically, a clone of an individual is the offspring of the individual, despite being genetically identical, Mr. Vice-President.”

Cheney shook his head in amazement. “And that’s the simplest explanation?”

“Uh, well, yes sir, it is.” Stark counted off on his fingers. “Especially when you consider that the alternatives are that she’s a robot masquerading as a human, she’s an alien from outer space masquerading as a human, she’s an alternative Karen Starr who came here from another dimension, she’s – “

“Yeah, we get the picture. So, she’s a clone, then. How did she get so damned powerful?”

“Genetic manipulation, maybe? Might be some sort of mutation that only triggered after her death that caused her to grow a new super-powered body. We really don’t know, Mr. President.” Stark shrugged. “Who knows, maybe she’s an angel sent back to earth from the afterlife.”

“She ain’t no angel. Angels don’t murder people.” Bush, ever the conservative Southern Baptist, was clearly uncomfortable with the idea that this girl might be a part of the heavenly host. Stark, on the other hand, clamped his jaw shut to prevent himself from blurting out the fact that the Bible contained several examples of Angels slaughtering not just individuals but _entire populations_ of people.

“Your advice is to just let her go about her business, attacking people and destroying things?” Cheney was still sneering. It occurred to Stark that the default setting for Dick Cheney’s face was a sneer. It was like he was convinced that the world was worthy of nothing but contempt.

“Yes, Mr. Vice-President. That is my advice.” Stark sat back and fell silent. “The truth is, this girl's criminal behavior has solely and completely been in response to government action. I believe that if we just leave her alone, she'd --”

“Well that’s just bullshit. This girl is a weapon. She must be controlled. There’s no two ways about it.” General Ross interrupted. Stark wasn’t surprised by the General’s opinion. He held the same opinion about Bruce Banner and the Hulk. “Can you imagine what would happen if she decided to go to work for the Iranians? Or the Chinese?”

Gyrich was nodding. “I concur. She’s too valuable a resource to allow unsupervised, and too much of a danger to us to allow someone else to control her. We must manage this girl. There is no other alternative.”

“We don’t even know if she can be contained, much less controlled.” Stark rubbed his eyes. “And just how far are you planning on going to get her under control, General? What if it takes nuking her, and I mean literally hitting her with a nuclear bomb, to hurt her? Nothing else so far has worked! All we’ve done is wasted time, money, and resources.”

“Speaking of money, how much has this little adventure cost us, anyhow?” Bush asked. It was uncharacteristic of him to worry about how much his government was spending, but this was a special case.

“Uh, well, Mr. President, that’s complicated.” Norman Osborn shifted in his seat. “We don’t have exact numbers on that, but I can get a report done and up to you by morning.”

Stark wasn’t going to let that just sit there. “Counting the seven months the girl spent in a SHIELD hospital, plus the special facilities they required to study her, and the facilities used to hold her while she was there, insurance pay-outs and medical costs for injured SHIELD agents, not to mention medical care for the injured Avengers, plus the cost of repairing environmental damage caused by offensive actions in both New York and San Francisco, deployment costs, fuel, and replacing two California national guard helicopters? We’re looking at just under seven hundred million dollars.” Stark tried to keep the smugness out of his voice. It didn’t matter, everyone was so used to him being smug, no one really noticed anymore.

The vice-president stared at Norman Osborn for a moment before addressing Stark. “Almost a billion dollars?”

“Yes, Mr. Vice-President.” Stark nodded. “Almost a billion dollars.” Stark suddenly chuckled to himself. At the looks he was getting, Stark forced himself not to grin. “Sorry. I was just thinking that at least we don’t have to replace the SHIELD truck that Starr escaped with. It turned up the next day, without a scratch on it. She dropped it off on the roof of SHIELD’s LA headquarters.”

That got a laugh out of the president. “Little girl has some spirit. I like that.”

“It isn’t funny.” Cheney growled.

“Aw, come on, Dick. You gotta admit, that shows some style, ya know?”

Gyrich cleared his throat. “We think she and this other girl who’s traveling with her, this, uh…” Gyrich consulted the file. “Laura Kraft is her name. Anyway, we think they’re hiding in Los Angeles, and we might have a lead as to where.”

“How’d you find out about this Kraft girl??” Bush asked.

“SHIELD was able to lift the girl’s prints from the hospital room,” Osborn said. “Turns out she is a bonded nanny and to get bonded, they took her fingerprints. Truth is, without the help of that doctor, we’d never even found the room she was staying in.”

“What doctor is that?” Bush asked. He was clearly getting interested in the meat of the story.

“Oh, the emergency room doctor who treated the girl when she first came in. Car accident, apparently. Anyway, the doctor thought it was hinky – his word, not ours – that the Kraft girl came in covered in her own blood and that – and this is a quote – her girlfriend didn’t have a mark on her.”

“Girlfriend?”

Osborn shrugged. “He might be misreading the situation. Anyway, it was the doctor’s suspicion that the other girl – the name she was using was, uh, Seamus or Sammi Erin had been drinking and got them into a car crash.” 

Cheney glanced at Bush and nodded. The president shot his vice-president a questioning look and Cheney glared at the man. Looking slightly chastised, President Bush cleared his throat. “Okay, that’ll be all. Thanks, fellas. Norman, I want your office to get me the name of that leak or I swear by God and Sunny Jesus heads are gonna roll. You unnerstandin’ me?”

Norman Osborn visibly swallowed. “Uh, yes, sir, Mr. President. I understand you.”

Everyone stood, and Stark, Osborn, Gyrich, and the General filed out. Behind them, Stark could barely hear the vice president begin to speak. “Okay, George, this is what you’re going to do. You’re – “ before the door to the oval office closed.

**XxxxxxX**

“This is just nuts!” Chase was staring at the laptop he propped up on the arm of the couch.

Alex and Louise had arrived in Los Angeles the day before and had immediately returned to the hideout used by Nico and Chase and Molly and their friends. They had thought about returning to their place at the camp under the interstate, but it turned out that the area was crawling with cops, all of whom were watching the homeless camp. Alex had spotted the surveillance from the air and had got them out of dodge as quickly and quietly as possible.

“I’m telling you, this is just nuts.” Chase said, a little more loudly this time. The various people around him turned their attention toward him, which Alex was assuming had been the point all along.

Nico looked up from where she was playing cards with Louise. “What’s nuts?”

“This YouTube video, of you kicking ass all over the Avengers? The original was pulled by YouTube a couple of hours after it was posted, but whoever ordered it pulled missed the boat. It’s everywhere. There must be eighteen or nineteen bootleg copies bouncing around YouTube, plus it’s on Facebook now, and a dozen copies on MySpace.” He had been watching and rewatching the video all morning. “Oh, that had to hurt! Alex, damn. Remind me not to piss you off, like, ever!”

“If you think that’s nuts, you should read the blogs on Huff Post. Must be a dozen of them.” Nico laid a card down and Louise scowled at her for it. “Most of them are supportive. A couple are doing the cautious neutrality thing. Oh, and stay away from the conservatives.” Nico turned to address Alex, who was flopped on the couch watching TV with Molly. “Those people are convinced you’re Space Hitler or something and are calling for the government to send in the Marines already and put you in prison where you belong.”

“No skin off my nose.” Alex shrugged without taking her eyes from the screen. Danny Glover and Mel Gibson were doing their thing, ridding Los Angeles of evil. This time, the evil was a bunch of South African diplomats who doubled as drug dealers and smugglers. “I think I’ve decided that I don’t really care anymore. If, you know, everyone’s safe and all. And we’ll be out of your hair as soon as we can, we promise. I know you guys are in enough trouble without the two of us adding to it.”

“You’re no trouble at all.” Molly leaned in and gave Alex a hug. Alex could tell that the smaller girl put some oomph into it, but it still just felt like a normal hug. “I like having you around.”

“Well, I like being around, squirt. Now shush, I’m trying to watch the movie.”

But it was not to be. Almost immediately thereafter Victor Mancha stuck his head in from the other room. “Girls, I have your papers ready,” he announced, then disappeared from whence he came.

“I thought you said it would take, like hours?” Alex asked as she rose from the couch. Louise followed her into the other room, where Victor sat at what looked like a very expensive, top of the line computer terminal.

“Well… I might have inflated the time necessary so you’d think I’m a genius.” The young man smirked just a bit. “Because, well, I’m a genius.” He took two packets of paper from his desk. He handed one packet to Louise the other to Alex.

Alex opened her packet up and looked at the first page. It was a birth certificate that said that ALEXANDA LUCRETIA HARRIS, a female child, had been born in Santa Barbara, a town in Santa Barbara County, California, to ANTHONY PETER HARRIS and JESSICA FRANCINE LAVELLE on April 12, 1987. It even had a signature on it.

She glared at him. “Wait… my new middle name is Lucretia? What the hell, Victor?”

He shrugged in response. “I like the name Lucretia. You said I could pick anything as long as if wasn’t it wasn’t Lavelle. It’s not Lavelle.”

“Lucretia’s not that bad, Alex. Calm down.” Louise patted Alex on the arm. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, you notice that he made you nineteen?”

Alex stopped glaring long enough to glance at Louise’s new paperwork. “Oh sure, take his side. Louise Hannah Fulford,” she muttered. “Nice normal name, Hannah. And he made me negative seven. I was born in 1981.”

Louise sighed. “Yes, dear, I know. When you left your dimension, it was only 1996. But here its ten years later, so you’re only 19. Legally, at least.”

“Right. Um.” Victor was obviously desperate to change the subject. “What you’ve got there is birth certificates, social security numbers, High School transcripts, shot records, not to mention some dummied up medical records that cover about the past four years or so. You’ve also got clean, brand new records with the DMV and the passport office, but you’re going to have to go down there yourselves to get new copies of the documents themselves. With what you have in your hands, you should have no problem.

Victor stopped talking for a moment and blushed. “Um… Louise, I also took care of your arrest record. As far as anyone is concerned, you’ve never been arrested for, uh… well, you know.”

For a moment, Louise looked like a deer caught in an oncoming car’s headlights. Alex watched her force herself to remain calm. “Uh, thank you. I, um. I’m not too proud of, uh…” Victor just nodded. No one wanted to bring up the girl’s past as a street-walker.

“And you’re sure we’ll be safe with just using a variation of our actual names?” Alex was still reading through the information.

“You’ll be fine. You said SHIELD is looking for Karen Starr, remember? They didn’t believe you when you said you were Xander Harris. Thought you were crazy, right? Well, they might start looking for Alexander Lavelle Harris, but I doubt anyone will make the connection.”

“Right.” Alex accepted it, but still wasn’t utterly convinced. She, Louise, and Victor wandered back into the main room; Louise returned to her card game, Alex back to her movie. She got back in time to watch Gibson and Glover stuff their pockets full of hundred dollar bills.

“That’s stupid,” Molly said, tossing a piece of popcorn toward the television.

“What’s stupid?” Alex shifted, then shifted again. She was sprawled across the couch and was trying to find just the right position.

“This. A shipping container filled with hundred dollar bills? There’s got to be a bazillion dollars in there. Where would a bunch of drug dealers get a bazillion dollars. And they just left it sitting there in a big metal can at the docks? Yeah, right.” Molly was emphatic, as if she took offense at the stupidity of the film’s writers. “Where are the gorillas carrying Uzis? A real drug dealer would have gun-men and mooks all over that dock guarding that much money.”

“It’s just a movie, Molly. Calm down.” Alex finally found the comfortable spot. “Besides, the drug dealers in this film work for the South African government, remember? Governments and big international corporations have much more money than any drug dealer does, and they ship cash in those containers all the time.”

Alex’s head suddenly whipped around and she stared at the television with laser focus. “Governments ship things in containers all the time,” she repeated.

“What?” Molly was staring at her. Alex just smiled and shrugged.

“No, you have something face. What?”

Alex shrugged again. “Hey, Louise, remember how we talked about going to Florida and finding the Nexus, but we didn’t have money or a vehicle or anyway to cross the country that wouldn’t have us targeted like an ICMB? I just had an idea. What if we got Norman Osborn and Tony Stark to pay for our trip?”

**XxxxxxX**

Norman Osborn could feel that a storm was brewing, and had no intention of being caught in it. Even before his limousine had left the White House gates, he had opened his briefcase. Osborn pulled a cell phone out of a Ziploc sandwich bag and punched in a number only he and one other person knew existed. This wasn’t the mobile phone that was on record with the White House and with his office. Nor was it the phone the number of which he had given his various mistresses. This phone connected to only one person and one person only, and was intended for one use only. It took four rings for Desmond Arsuba, his head of security, to answer instead of the usual two. That irked Osborn, but he’d managed to learn to control his urge to punish everyone around him for offending him. He admitted that he was still on the far side of the psychopath line, but at least now he could function in public without people fleeing from him in terror.

 _“Arsuba.“_ As if anyone else would be on the other end.

“This is Osborn.” Again, as if anyone else would be using this phone. “Dunkirk.”

_“Acknowledged.”_ And with that Arsuba disconnected. Osborn turned the phone off and waited. When his limo was crossing the bridge over the Delaware River, he rolled his window down and tossed the phone out of the limo and into the river.

It took half an hour for his limousine to pull up in front of his Georgetown townhouse. He didn’t get out. The driver simply honked the car’s horn twice. Desmond Arsuba came out accompanied by two men, all carrying three suitcases apiece. The luggage was put in the trunk of the limo. Arsuba and the two men then joined Osborn inside the car. Once everyone was settled, the driver took off. He’d already been given instructions. Osborn knew that his private plane was already being prepared for takeoff at the jetport in Somerville. By the time they got there, it would already be in taxi position, just waiting for him to climb on board.

Osborn leaned back in his seat. His thoughts were already on Dubai. He knew that shortly the government would seize Oscorp, but he’d already gutting the corporation in preparation of taking the government position. He’d left four or five bank accounts here or there with a few million just to make his banking history look viable. But his real assets were already transitioned to Swiss accounts, or had been made more tangible in the form of diamonds, stock certificates, bearer bonds, several books of rare stamps, a few highly prized collectible books, some valuable artwork, and a surprisingly high number of pre-loaded Visa gift cards.

He’d dangle the bait in front of the Federal government, and they’d take the hook, thinking that they had crippled his finances, and thus his influence. If they only knew. Dubai was a wonderfully modern place to live, for a nation in the Middle East. They knew how to take care of their ex-patriot billionaires.

**XxxxxxX**

“Wow. There's, uh, more of these crates here than I thought there would be.” Alex floated a couple of hundred feet in the air above the Secure Holding Yard at the Port of Los Angeles. She held Molly Hayes in her arms, while Victor Mancha floated in the air beside her. “You sure you can find the right one?”

“I'm sure.” Victor had his tablet out and was enthusiastically tapping away at it as he hung in thin air. “This is the most feasible way available to get one of the jerks heading up the hunt for you guys to pay for your trip to Florida. SHIELD ships material through private means. We can't get to it without starting a shooting war. Stark does the same thing. That leaves only Osborn. From what I could pry out of the Oscorp computers, there's a container filled with that was described as 'trade goods.'”

“Trade goods?”

Victor shrugged. “It’s a box full of bribe money and goods to smooth things over between Oscorp's people and the local warlords in the Middle East and Africa.“

“Yeah, but this is way, way too open. I mean, this is not how I expected all this to go down when we were talking about it in the cave.” Alex said this as casually as she could. The trio dropped gently out of the air and stood atop the stack of containers. Below them, the aisles between the containers were brightly lit, but everything was dim as high up as they were. Alex let Molly down as soon as her feet touched metal.

“It was your plan, remember?” Victor continued to tap on the screen of his tablet.

“Sure, but that was before I saw that this was going to be like searching for a... you know, I don't even think it’s a needle in a haystack. More like trying to find a particular needle in a stack of needles. Her tone belied the fact that she was nervous as hell and wasn't sure she knew what she was doing. All around her were thousands and thousands of shipping containers. Unfortunately, they all looked identical unless you could read the alpha-numeric codes on the containers ident plaques.

“Patience, grasshopper. And there we go.” Victor handed Alex his tablet. “Using the GPS chip in each container, I created a 3-D map of the entire facility. From what I learned with my initial search, we're looking for container #284-22-43983. It should be right over there.” He pointed to the right, at a stack of containers lower than the one they were standing on.

“I hope the box we're looking for is on top.” Molly scuffed her foot along the top of the container they were standing on. “These things look heavy. Are we going to be breaking into it here, or are we going to carry it away and then break into it?”

Alex looked to Victor, who shrugged. “I think we'll take it out of here then break into it.”

“Right. Come on.” Victor glanced at his tablet, stepped from the top of the container stack into the air. He floated over to a new, shorter stack before stopping. Alex held a hand out to Molly, but the younger girl just shook her head and leapt toward her teammate. The noise caused by her landing caused Alex to cringe, but thankfully none of the security guards responded. Alex sighed again, forcing herself to remain calm.

She floated down to where Victor was standing in mid-air. He smiled at Alex and pointed to a container. It was bright yellow, and had _Oscorp_ and _#284-22-43983_ stamped on its visible end. It was also third from the top in a stack of five containers.

Alex sighed again. “Nothing's ever easy.” She maneuvered herself above the top container in the stack, and motioned Molly over. “I'll pick this up. I need you to make sure that when I put it down again, it’s even with the other crates, okay? That way, someone can't just, like, walk by and notice something's out of place.”

“Sure, no problem.” Molly shot her a thumbs-up.

Alex centered herself above the top container. It took her a few moments to find likely hand-holds, but within minutes the top crate was in her hands. She landed next to the spot she wanted to move it to, and carefully shifted her grip to the side of the crate. Molly put a hand on the container to steady it, but rather than make it more stable, Alex felt shaky for just a moment. It was as if someone was trying to snatch the huge metal box out of her hands. The moment Molly stopped touching the container, the feeling went away. She blinked at the younger girl, but ultimately decided that it didn't matter.

“How are you doing that?”

“How am I doing what?” Alex looked over at Victor, and found that the young man was staring at her with a confused yet amazed look on his face.

“How are you still holding that container?” He pointed at her. “You can't possibly have the leverage, no matter how strong you are. That thing has got to weigh, what, thirty or forty tons? I understand you're strong enough to pick it up, but just moving it like that should be impossible regardless. You're not positioned right. It’s why the cranes use this four-cable rig. The wouldn't be able to lift the containers otherwise.”

He pointed at the container again. “Not to mention that you holding it from just one end should have caused the thing to break apart from the strain. But there you are, slick as you please, violating the laws of physics.”

“Oh, uh,” Alex stared at the enormous metal box in her hands. “Well, I, uh, I really have no idea, really. But I've heard some ideas. If you believe this guy named John Byrne, there's a component to a Kry – I mean, to my strength that's actually a form of telekinesis. My mind is not only helping me lift this box, its keeping the box from breaking up all at the same time.”

“John Byrne the comic book guy?” Molly asked. She'd been on the other end of the container, making sure it was coming into place evenly.

“Wait. You guys know who John Byrne is?”

Victor shook his head while Molly nodded. “Sure, yeah. John Byrne's fantastic! He was the writer of the licensed _Fantastic Four_ comics for a while, then wrote for the _Avengers_ comic, and then did _Iron Man_ for a while. My favorite, I think, is when he rebooted _Ultra-Man_.” The digression into geekery put smiles on the faces of both Molly and Alex. Victor just seemed confused by it all.

“You're talking about comic books?” he asked.

“Of course we're talking about comic books! Comic book geeks aren't just unwashed hairy basement-dwellers anymore.” Alex couldn't help but tease him. “Some comic book geeks are hot chicks with super-powers!”

“Right.” Victor started to say something, then changed his mind. “So, you going to put that down?”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Molly, guide me in.” Alex shifted the container, then moved to pick up the next one. She felt a bit sheepish, having been distracted by the conversation.

“So, Byrne's a comic book writer and he came up with some explanation for how your powers worked?” Victor watched as Alex lifted the second container. He didn't remark on the impossibility of it this time. “What, did you let him test you or something?”

“Nah. Alex has the same powers as Ultra-Man.” Molly was grinning from ear to ear.

“What's an Ultra-Man?”

“You've never heard of Ultra-Man? He was only the first comic book superhero, like, ever!” Molly rolled her eyes. The girl was obviously outraged, and Alex couldn't avoid smiling at Victor's predicament. But Molly was on a roll. “Ultra-Man actually predates the real superheroes! How can you not know Ultra-Man? Jeez! Where have you been? Living, under a rock or something?”

“Uh, no, I just had a very restrictive childhood.” Victor looked away for a moment. “What are Ultra-Man's powers, anyway?”

Molly shrugged. “Super-strength. Invulnerability. He can fly really fast.” She helped Alex lower the second container into place. “Oh, hey!” The younger girl brightened. “Alex, do you have atomic vision?”

Confused, Alex and Victor asked, almost simultaneously, “What's atomic vision?”

“You know, atomic vision! Like in the Ultra-Man can you shoot beams of deadly radiation out of your eyes?”

“Well, uh, not exactly.”

“Oh.” Molly's entire demeanor slumped along with her shoulders. “That's too bad, because that would be a really cool power to have.”

“Well, I don't shoot radiation, just heat.”

What, like you've got fire vision?” Molly perked right back up immediately.

“Uh, no, no fire. Just heat.” Alex looked to Victor. “You're sure this is the one?”

“Yep. The numbers match and everything. This is the container you wanted. So, heat vision on top of strength and flying and invulnerability?”

“Also, heightened senses and x-ray vision and being really, really fast.”

“Hey, Alex, are you allergic to Xenonite?” Molly asked out of the blue. Alex just shook her head at the girl and smirked.

“That sounds kind of random, don't you think? Like the writers of the comic book just added more and more super-powers as they needed to make the plot work?”

For some reason, Alex felt embarrassed. “Yeah, I guess.” She bent and power lifted the crate so that it was above her head. “Okay, kiddo, climb on. Victor, if you want a ride, you can climb on too. I'll hold it level. You won't fall, I promise.”

Victor took Molly's hand and lifted the both to the top of the container. “Okay, we're on,” Molly called. “Let's go!”

Alex lifted off into the air gently, trying not to shake her passengers off. She could hear the low mumble of their conversation, but wasn't really paying attention. A few minutes into the flight, Alex heard Victor exclaim, “No, I do not think she has cryogenic breath.” She chuckled over that for a good long while.

**XxxxxxX**

Twenty minutes later, Alex landed in the middle of the parking lot of an old abandoned motel. The remains of the motel's sign read _'Qual Re tel'_ , under which was a marquee that read, “Under New Management. Grand Reopening Soon!” The sight of it made Alex sort of maudlin. This place was someone's dream once, and now it was a wreck. As she carefully lowered the container to the ground, she could see the rest of Victor and Molly's group, plus Louise, standing well clear. Most of them were holding flashlights, as the wreckage of the motel no longer had electricity.

When the container was safely on the ground, Victor floated down from it while Molly just jumped. Alex turned to greet Louise, who'd been standing with Nico. “Hey, baby. Went off without a hitch, just like I promised it would.”

Louise gave Alex a quick squeeze and a kiss. “I know. You're my favorite criminal mastermind.”

That caused Alex to giggle. She threw an arm around Louise. “We need to get that on a t-shirt. Mine will say 'Criminal Mastermind' while yours says 'Criminal Mastermind's Main Squeeze.' They'll match.”

“Hey Alex, come on and let's see what's in this thing!” Molly called. She'd been eying the amazingly strong-looking lock that kept the container closed.

“Fine, fine. No more delays.” Arms still around each other, they walked to the front end of the container. Alex studied the lock for a moment, then nodded. “Sorry, baby, but I need both hands.” She looped a finger from each hand into the and pulled the restraining bar into three pieces. That taken care of, she stepped back and motioned to Molly. “It's all yours.”

Alex took Louise in her arms again and stepped back as Molly stepped forward. “This is a lot like a treasure hunt.” Molly said. The girl scatted the 20th Century Fox fanfare before opening the container's doors with a flourish. Everyone was laughing as she did so, but the moment they got a clear look at what was inside, their breath caught in their throat.

No one spoke.

And no one spoke.

And still, no one spoke.

“Wow.” Chase finally broke the silence. “That is a literal fuck-ton of money.” At the near end of the container, just inside the thing's doors, sat a wooden pallet that had a plastic-wrapped cube of hundred dollar bills stacked on it. “How much money do you think that is?”

“As you say,” Victor responded. “It is a fuck-ton.”

“No, I mean, how much money do you think that is?” Chase repeated the question. “Molly, drag that out of there so we can count it. Nodding, Molly leaned down and grabbed the wooden pallet the money was stacked on out into the parking lot. The rest of the container was pitch dark.

“Uh, well, I mean, each packet is a hundred $100 bills. That's $10,000 in each packet. The stack is, uh, jeez... I don't know how high or wide it is. I mean...” they started counting.

“Hold it a second. Let me do it. Chase, give me your flashlight.” Alex held out a hand and Chase dropped his mag-light into it. Alex concentrated and sped up her scan by an order of magnitude. In seconds, she had the answer. “I got it, you can stop counting. The cube is a four feet on a side. Given the standardized size of a $10,000 packet of hundred dollar bills…”

“Jeez... high school algebra. What's the volume of a cube again?” Alex heard Louise mutter to herself.

Nico had closed her eyes and was clearly counting, just like everyone. But again, before anyone could get going, Victor short-cutted the process.

“There's uh, wow. You guys are not going to believe this.” Victor looked shocked. “There's over ten billion dollars in this cube.”

“Wait, what?” Everyone was in shock, but it was Nico who voiced it. “Did you say ten billion?”

“Yeah, ten billion dollars.”

“Billion? With a B?” Alex stared at the cube.

“With a B, yes.” Victor ran his hand over one side of the cube. It was much more money than any of them, even the ones who had grown up in the lap of wealth and luxury, had ever seen in one place at one time.

The other young girl, the one who dressed an Amish bride, said, “I can't even conceive of such a sum. It’s beyond my ability to comprehend.”

“Holy shit, we're fucked. We are fucked. They're going to kill us. Seriously.” Chase sat down abruptly, right in the middle of the parking lot. He put his head in his hands. “This is hunted down, chopped up into bait, and fed to the sharks by the Mafia kind of money.” He looked up at everyone else. “Haven't any of you guys ever seen any movies? Jesus Christ!”

“Yeah, this is definitely way too much money.” Karolina chuckled. “So, Power Girl, was this part of your plan?”

Alex shrugged, grinning. “It's way more money than I planned. But that's not necessarily a bad thing.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Chase was almost screaming at this point. “Oscorp isn't going to just let this go, man. They're going to come after us and kill us, even if we gave it back, they're gonna kill us.”

“No, no, it’s going to be okay.” Victor sat down next to Chase and pulled out his tablet. “I can hide it.”

“You can hide $10 billion?” Chase was panicked, nearly hysterical.

Victor shook his head. “No, I can hide the fact that we stole it.”

Louise turned to Alex. “I, uh, I think I have an idea. It’s a bit out there, but I think it would work.”

“Sure, baby, what's your idea?” Alex motioned to Nico, Klara, and Karolina, and the three girls came over. She looked toward where Victor and Chase were seated, but neither were really paying attention. “Go for it.”

“Well, um, I think what we need to do is everyone take some for themselves. But no more than, uh, I don't know, maybe a couple of million dollars each. Maybe even ten or twenty million. Anyway, I want to give some to Aaron to help the guys. Maybe leave some of it in a brown paper bag for the sisters at the convent. You know, give some of it to people who need it.

“And then.” She paused and took a deep breath. “And then I think we need to pour, like, gasoline over whatever is left and just set it on fire. That way, we don't have big targets on our heads, and this Osborn guy doesn't have his money.”

“You're kidding, right?” Karolina scoffed. “Just burn up billions of dollars? Throw it away?” She seemed scandalized by the waste of it all.

“Yeah. What else are we going to do with it? Throw it off the top of a tall building? Drop it off a Goodwill? We can't keep it because Chase is right! People will hunt us down if we try to keep this money.”

“Right, uh, okay, let's get the plastic off this pile. Everyone start filling bags. Don't take more than a hundred packets apiece.” Nico unfolded a vinyl athletic bag as Molly stripped the cube of its plastic wrap. They'd brought a bunch of bags expecting there to be a lot of money, but no one had foreseen this.

As everyone else started shoving money into their bags, Molly took a flashlight and ventured into the space left open by the pallet. “Hey guys, come look at this!”

Alex left Louise to cram their bag full of money. She stepped into the container and spotted what Molly was reacting to. “Wow. That's a beautiful car!” The car was a Mustang GT, painted a warm metallic green. It had been strapped down and secured into immobility in the middle of the container. Behind the car, against the far end of the container, were several stacks of cardboard boxes.

Alex grinned. “Hey, Chase, I think I have a replacement for your car.” Alex carefully started popping the straps holding the car in place. Once it was free, she pushed it out of the container and into the night air. “It's gas tank is probably dry as a bone, but I'm betting it’s so factory fresh it still has the new car smell.”

Chase looked up from where he was still moping. “Great. A stolen car.” He put his head back into his hands.

Alex had just about enough of that. She strode over to where Chase was sitting and offered him a hand. He took it and she yanked him to his feet. “Don't talk like that! Grow some balls already! If Victor can get inside Oscorp computers to find a shipping manifest, he's got to be able to get into the DMV and jigger a car's registration so it shows that you own it. Right, Vic?” She looked over at Victor, who smiled and nodded.

“Sure. Piece of cake.” Victor dusted off his pants.

Molly's voice echoed from the container. “There's all kinds of stuff in these boxes, guys! Come look!”

Nico and Karolina went into the container after Molly. Shortly they came back out, each carrying a cardboard box. “Hey, guys, look!” Karolina put her box down and opened it. It was filled with smaller boxes, each painted blue with gold trim. In a fine cursive hand, the words “Pol Roger Winston Churchill Couvee 2001” could easily be read. “Not sure what this crap is, but there's like a dozen crates of it in there.”

Molly followed, dragging a huge rectangular box. It was five feet tall if it was an inch, and seven feet long, but less than a foot wide. From the markings on the box, it contained a huge flat-screen television. “There's four or five of these in there two, plus some more boxes that look like they have computers in them.”

Alex looked over at Victor. “Trade goods.”

He nodded back to her. “Trade goods.”

Molly laid the box she was dragging on the ground. She was being very careful with it. “I want one of these TVs for my room.”

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pol Roger Winston Churchill Couvee 2001 is a type of champagne. It was introduced in 1984 by the Pol-Roger champagne house in honor of their most loyal customer and ardent supporter, Sir Winston Churchill. Churchill drank Pol-Roger champagne at every occasion from the time he ordered his first case of the 1895 vintage in 1908, right up until his death in 1965. During World War II, he justified his constant drinking of the champagne with a line he stole from Napoleon Bonaparte: “In defeat, I need it, and in victory I deserve it.”


	18. Things to Do in California When You're On Vacation

**XxxxxxX**

_“I would rather entertain people and hope they learned something than educate people and hope they were entertained.” – **Walter E. Disney**_

**XxxxxxX**

“Aaron. Hey. Can I talk to you for a second?”

The albino man nearly dropped the tomato he'd been examining. He wasn't used to people coming up to him at random, and while he cared a lot of the people he saw as his charges, he was generally a loner. Having someone come up and talk to him out of nowhere at a bodega was a shock. He turned to take in the young woman who had approached him.

“Alex. Been what, three weeks? How you been?” Aaron looked around behind the new arrival. “Where's Louise?”

“She's doing fine. Better than fine, really. Best she's probably been in years. She misses the old gang. Or some of you, anyway.” He noticed that the girl wasn't focusing on anything. She kept her eyes moving, as if watching for an attacker. “I'm meeting her in Anaheim shortly. We're having an 'us' day today. Something special.”

Though disconcerted a bit by Alex's seeming paranoia, Aaron grinned at the good news. He'd always liked Louise, and hated that she was selling herself on the street to survive. “Great. So, what's new?”

The question caused Alex to grin. “Well, we got hitched.” Alex held up her left hand, displaying two silver rings, one an obvious engagement ring, the other a plain wedding band. “We filed the domestic partnership papers, had a ceremony. We had matching wedding gowns and everything. Louise even had a bridesmaid. It was beautiful. Sorry we didn't invite you, but we were trying to keep it hush-hush.”

“Hush-hush. Right. I saw the news. You kicked the government's ass and now you're public enemy number one or something. Not exactly hush-hush.” _That explains the paranoia,_ he thought to himself. It occurred to Aaron that it might be a good idea to get away from this woman as quickly as possible. “You said you were strong, but you never said you were let's-fight-with-Thor strong.”

Alex smiled at him. “Yeah, I know. Not the smartest thing I ever did, but it was kind of necessary at the time. Anyway, I brought you something. Thought you could use it.” He stared at the manila envelope she held out to him. Just a plain, tan-orange vanilla envelope, the same type used by offices to ship documents, and he stared at it like it was a poisonous viper.

“What's in the envelope?”

“Take it. Look for yourself. It’s not dangerous. Trust me, I don't want to cause you trouble.” Alex seemed to catch herself, then grinned. “Well, this might cause you trouble, but not the intentional harm kind of trouble. It’s a good thing. I promise.”

He took the envelope and stared at it, then looked at her again. “I don't --”

“No, it’s okay, I understand, you have people to look after. This should help.” She nodded toward the envelope. “Go ahead, open it.”

He gave her an aside glance as he opened the envelope and removed a small stack of documents and a pair of keys tied together with a piece of string. He read the top sheet, his eyes getting wider and wider as he did so. “What the hell! What is –” he looked toward Alex, wondering what was going on, but she wasn't there anymore. He looked around for her, but there was no sign. It was like she teleported away. Aaron flipped through the pages. It was – he had no idea how to describe it. What the hell was he supposed to do with all this?” How the hell did they accomplish this? According to this packet of paper, he was now the president and chief executive officer of a charity that had been funded to the tune of fifty million dollars from 'anonymous sources,' and whose purpose was to help house and support the homeless, especially homeless teenagers who were mutants, or homeless families who had mutant members. There were offices – he had an office! The charity owned a hotel, the Hyperion Hotel, up on Wilshire, that doubled as a housing facility. He even had a room assigned, and a salary. Aaron looked around again, desperate to find Alex or any sign of her, just to ask her what the hell was going on? How the hell did they accomplish this?

Aaron never saw either Louise or Alex again. But every day, from that day until the day he retired as the head of the Kent Foundation nearly fifty years later, he'd always thank them for their help.

**XxxxxxX**

_“Tony, it's me.”_

“Happy.” Tony Stark rubbed his eyes. He dreaded getting up, like all chronic insomniacs; as a group, chronic insomniacs fought for every second of precious sleep they could nab. “I want you to know I seriously hate you right now. I mean, seriously. It can't be morning already, I just got to bed like, an hour ago.”

_“Did you go to bed at 8 am?”_

“Uh, something like that. Maybe, I don't recall. It's possible. Last time I looked at a clock it was like, I dunno, 7:45 or so.”

_“Well in that case, you feel like you've only been asleep for an hour because you've only been asleep for an hour. It’s only 9 am now.”_

“Happy, do me a favor and remind me why I haven't fired you yet?” Stark yawned. He still hadn't opened his eyes. He was suddenly aware that there was someone else in the bed with him. A casual glance to his right revealed a head of brilliant red hair just barely visible under the comforter. He carefully lifted the blanket and peeked at the naked female back and derriere. “Huh?” He cast his memory back, but simply could not recall going to bed with anyone. He didn't feel like he'd been all sexed up in the last several hours. “Huh? Now that's odd.”

_“You haven't fired me because I'm one of only a handful of friends that put up with you no matter how stupid you get, Tony. So, what's odd?”_

“What? Oh! Nothing. So, you were about to explain to me why you're waking me up when I only just now got to sleep.” Stark yawned. He still had no idea who this was in bed with him.

_“Right. You remember that job you wanted me to handle for you? Well it's handled. I didn't find anything for a Karen Starr, but I found something that was similar enough to that second name. Seems one Alexandra Lucretia Harris – not Lavelle, but Lucretia – and one Louise Hannah Fulford filed for a domestic partnership a few days ago. Louise Fulford has also filed to have her name changed to Louise Harris, and requested an expedited process based on the domestic partnership, so she's now officially Louise Harris. Anyway, based on their paperwork, I found them yesterday and have been keeping an eye on them in the meantime.”_

“Oh yeah? So where have they been hiding?” Tony sat up, trying to get a better angle to see who the redhead was. No luck. Her face was entirely under the covers.

_“You're going to love this. They've been doing that 'in plain sight' purloined letter thing at the Beverly Wilshire since Tuesday, in the Veranda Suite.”_

“Really?” Tony stopped and stared into space, thinking. “Remind me again what the per night is at the Beverly Wilshire for the Veranda Suite, Happy?” Tony had stayed at that hotel, in the Beverly Presidential Suite, and if he remembered correctly, the Beverly Presidential was close to ten grand a night.

_“The front desk reception guy told me it’s almost $6000 a night. Let me guess what your next question is?”_

“If you guess 'How do a couple of teenagers, neither of whom have jobs that leave records, afford staying in a hotel room that costs six grand a night?', give yourself a prize.” Tony rubbed his head again. The redhead lying next to him was momentarily forgotten. “We haven't heard about any bank robberies or an invasion of Fort Knox or the Federal Reserve lately, have we?”

_“Nope. No bank robberies. But I'm telling you, not only are they in the Suite, they're driving a brand new Mercedes. Looks like they've upgraded the wardrobe, too. Some accessorizing as well, and maybe a spa treatment. I had our friend in Gstaad do some poking around. Turns out our two wayward ladies have a numbered account in the Grand Caymans. I couldn't find out a balance, naturally, but I know they've got a personal account manager and are considered favored customers. You know what that means.”_

“Yeah, it means they've got at least fifty million dollars in their account. Happy, how on God's green Earth has nobody whose been looking for these kids has noticed any of this?” Tony turned and put his feet on the floor. He ran his hand through his hair and yawned again. “You'd think they'd be sending out a lot of 'find me' signals.”

_“Yeah, well, I've been checking their paperwork, and it’s all legitimate. With, like, years of background history to it. I'm talking at least three generations of it. If you believe their paperwork, Alexandra Harris inherited her money from her father Anthony, who inherited it from his father Rupert. Louise Harris is also from old money. At least on paper, that is. As far as we can tell, the girlfriend was a homeless street-walker as recently as two months ago, so yeah. But not on paper.”_

“I'm suddenly thinking that they not only robbed a bank somehow, they bought themselves an exquisitely skilled forger. What do you think?”

_“Sounds about right. As for how nobody's noticed, everyone's looking for Karen Starr. Nobody's looking for Alexandra Harris and her blushing bride Louise.”_

“Blushing bride. They look happy together?”

_“Boss, they look like two kids in love, is what they look like.”_

“Good for them. Everyone deserves a little happiness in their lives, right?” Stark stood up and walked into the bathroom. He was awake now, and the prospect of getting any more sleep for at least a few hours was ruined. “Hold on, I'm going to put you on speaker.” He set his phone down and punched the right buttons. “Okay, so where are they now?” Stark ran some water and splashed his face a few times, trying to become more alert.

_“There at the happiest place on Earth, Tony, celebrating their honeymoon. You should see these two kids. They're holding hands and being all shy when they kiss. It’s pretty cute.”_

“Disneyland?” Stark toweled his face dry. “They're going to Disneyland?”

_“Yep. They checked into the Disneyland Hotel last night. From what I can tell they're planning on doing the main park today and the California park tomorrow. Oh hey, the gates just opened. Which reminds me. I'm going to be using the corporate credit card a bit. Hope you don't mind.”_

“Let me guess.” Tony laughed at the thought.

_“You're the one who wanted me to find them and keep an eye on them. I can't keep an eye on them if they're inside the park and I'm not, right?”_

“You just want me to pay for you to get into Disneyland. Happy, sometimes you act like the eight-year-old you are.” Stark chuckled again. “All right, you bozo. Go have fun. But try not to have too much fun. Talk to you later.” He ended the call, then leaned forward to stare closely at his own eyes. They were just a little bloodshot.

“What in the Hell are you doing in my bathroom.”

At the sound of the voice behind him, Tony Stark nearly leapt out of his own skin. He whirled, ready to defend himself, only to stop. “Uh, Pepper? What are you doing here? Your room is across the hall.”

His former personal assistant – and former girlfriend – turned business associate just stared at him with the look he recognized as her 'you are being an idiot' face. Their relationship had remained close after the breakup, but she'd told him multiple times that she wasn't interested in restarting it. “No, Tony. This is my room. This is my bathroom. Your suite is the one across the ha – wait. How long have you been here?”

“Oh, not long at all.” He somehow couldn't force himself to meet her eyes. “So, uh, what brings you to New York?” As a corporate officer for Stark Industries, she had every right to use one of the room suites, but he didn't recall her being scheduled to do so.

“Tony. You're in a wife-beater and a pair of boxers. You sleep in that ensemble, when you're not with someone. Did you... were you in bed with me just now?”

“No, not at all. Just, um... just got the room wrong, is all. You know, insomnia.”

“Tony... you realize that when Happy hears about this, and he's absolutely going to hear about this, he's going to beat you into unconsciousness, right?”

Stark just nodded. “And rightfully so. I had absolutely no right to climb in bed with his wife.”

“Good to know you understand the gravity of the situation.” Pepper smiled at him for a moment, enjoying the humor of the situation. But only for a moment. “Now get out!”

**XxxxxxX**

“Really? You've lived in California your entire life and you've never been here before?” Louise held Alex's hand as they walked past the giant flower garden that featured the word 'Disneyland' written in yellow and white blossoms. They soon passed through a short tunnel that went under the railroad.

“Nope. You've got to understand that my – Xander's, that is – his folks spent most of their money on getting bombed and laying around the house. He knew about it, of course, but since he knew it was unlikely he could ever go, he never got his hopes up. Kara could have afforded it, but was never really interested.” Alex shrugged, then found she had to hitch her purse up on her shoulders. “Me, I'm just jazzing all over the place. I feel like a kid, I'm so looking forward to it.”

They stepped back out into the sunlight of Main Street Square. To their left was the City Hall, a street vendor selling popcorn, the Fire House, and some storefronts that Alex could tell were fake. Across the plaza, to their right, were several large buildings the purpose of which she couldn't discern.

“Come on. Let's go over here for a second. I see something.” Louise tugged on her hands and Alex naturally followed. They walked up the steps to City Hall, where a young lady with a cart was handing out various buttons. She was in a pert outfit of red tartan, and her name tag read 'Victoria. Boston, Massachusetts.”

“Good morning! How are you today?” Victoria's smile was genuine.

“Morning!” Alex responded. The good feeling was infectious. Of course, it was early in the day. “We're doing just fine. How about yourself?”

“I'm good this morning. Can I help you find a button?” She gestured toward the cart as if she was Vanna White showing off the letter-board, allowing Alex and Louise to browse over a selection of buttons. Louise grabbed a small handful, two 'Just Married', two 'I'm Celebrating', and a 'First Visit'. Alex shook her head, but had to smile at her partner's enthusiasm.

This enthusiasm seemed to carry over onto the act of pinning buttons to Alex's shirt. Louise attached the 'Just Married' and 'I'm Celebrating' buttons to Alex, then affixed similar buttons to herself. She then handed the 'First Visit' button to Victoria. Louise gave Alex a quick grin and said, “Her name is Alexandra, but she likes people to call her Alex.”

Victoria pulled a sharpie marker out of a nowhere and carefully wrote “Alex” on the button, then handed it back to Louise with a grin. “Congratulations on getting married! So where is your –” Victoria stopped when Louise held up her left hand and wiggled her ring finger. “Oh! Sorry! My bad! Congratulations, anyway!”

Alex couldn't help grinning again. “Thanks.” She gave Louise a quick hug. “I guess you could say this is our honeymoon.”

Victoria nodded. “Do you have any dinner plans yet?”

Alex and Louise exchanged glances. “Um, not really. I think we were just winging it.”

Victoria nodded again. “Okay, next question, this is a bit more personal. Are you on a budget?”

Louise snorted, then started giggling. “Ah, um – no, not exactly.” Alex suppressed her own laughter. “We're – um – sorry. No. We're – no, just – not on a budget.”

The giggling caused Victoria to look at them a bit funny, but she had probably seen weirder so she went along. “Okay, then. Might I suggest the Napa Rose? It’s at the Grand California Hotel. It’s a little pricey...” Her voice trailed off; both Alex and Louise had started giggling. “I think I missed something.”

“No, it’s not your fault, I promise.” Alex forced herself to straighten up. “The Napa Rose. It sounds wonderful. Where do we have to go to get reservations? I'm sure we're going to need some reservations.”

Victoria nodded. “Just inside. They'll help you out.” She pointed them toward the door behind her with a smile, then turned to the next people to approach. Feeling as if they'd dismissed, Alex took Louise's hand and the pair went inside. The difference was immediate; despite having three sets of double-doors open to the outside, the air inside was crisp and cool, like entering a walk-in refrigerator. A tall, thin young man behind the counter greeted them. “How may I help you today?”

**XxxxxxX**

_On Wall Street today, the news is grim for Oscorp. The munitions giant recently reported record-losses in its hard currency reserves that might drive the corporation into bankruptcy. Dennis Harding, a spokesman for the company, explained today that stock prices had been dropping the last two periods, but that there was no way for anyone at the company to foresee the sudden and unexplainable loss of nearly six billion dollars in corporate value. On the heels of that story is news that Oscorp founder and Chief Executive Officer Norman Osborn has disappeared. Family members and friends have told us here at Fox News that the business giant, who most recently had been working to assist President Bush with the problem of unregistered super-humans, vanished while on the way home after a late-night meeting with the President and Vice-President last Monday night. Company representatives had consistently denied the rumors that the executive has fled the country in fear of embezzlement charges._

_In other news, there has been a report of a break-in at the secure holding facility at the Port of Los Angeles. Several armed men reportedly stormed the facility. Two guards were killed during the attack, and six people were injured, including four dock workers. One of the witnesses said that the men were armed with automatic weapons and were, quote, 'Dressed like they were part of a SWAT team,' unquote. The FBI and the Coast Guard have begun an in-depth investigation._

_When we come back, the story of a woman who narrowly escaped death when a hatchet, of all things, came flying through her car windshield, right after the commercial break. I'm Jerome Keyes, you're watching Fox 18 News._

**XxxxxxX**

After the fifth time they were asked whether they were there with their husbands, Louise pulled Alex into a huge shop, called the Emporium. “Trust me, I've seen these before and we're buying them. We just need to locate them.” 'Them' turned out to be a pair of mouse-eared hats. Louise's hat was white, and decorated to look like a bridal dress. It even had a tiny veil. Alex's hat was made up to look like a tuxedo, and included a miniature top hat.

“You seriously want me to wear this?” Alex looked at the thing from all angles. In her opinion, it wasn't getting any less tacky.

“Look, I know it’s sort of childish, but I'm getting tired of explaining. So, for me, would you, please?” Louise leaned in and gave Alex a quick peck on the lips.

Alex rolled her eyes, but complied. “Fine. Anything else you think we need while we're here?” She looked around for a moment. “That register isn't as busy.”

“Yep.” On the way to the indicated checkout, Louise stopped at a rotating stand. “Pins for trading, and a lanyard. One for each of us.” She grabbed two packages and handed them to Alex. “What do you like for your lanyard? I'm thinking something with the princesses, 'cause I'm the girly one.”

Alex stuck her tongue out at her partner. “Right. You're girly all right.” The label read 'Disney Pin Trading Starter Set'. “Hey, this says each of these comes with a lanyard. Why do we need more than one lanyard?”

“The lanyards in those starter sets are sort of like the pins. They're cheesy and suck and get replaced as fast as we can replace them. Here, try this one.” Louise handed Alex a cloth strap that was fastened on one end with a plastic buckle, and ended with a heavy medallion on a metal clasp. In this case, the medallion was the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ film logo. The lanyard was similarly festooned with the skull and crossbones.

“Oh, I want this one bad!” Pirates had become Alex's favorite movie almost as soon as she saw it.

“You're such a geek. I married a geek, I swear to God.” Louise found the princess lanyard she was looking for. “Come on, let's pay for this. Oh! And then let's go across the street!” Louise pointed out the open door.

“What's on the other side of the street?” Alex was digging into her purse for some cash.

“Candy store!”

“You're going to take me through every single shop and store this place has, aren't you?” Alex wasn't as annoyed as she sounded. She thought it was all pretty cool. And as Louise said, she was a consummate geek. She turned her attention back to the register clerk, whose name apparently was Barbara.

“Good morning! Is this going to be all?” Barbara began ringing up their purchases. She glanced at their buttons, then at the hats, and nodded without saying anything. After having every Disney employee greet them with ‘congratulations’, Barbara's reaction was interesting. Still thinking about it, Alex almost missed Barbara's question.

“I'm sorry?”

The clerk was holding out Alex's change. “That's all right. I asked if you wanted to wear your hats and lanyards out of the store? I'll leave them out of the bag if...”

“Oh, yeah, I guess so. Thanks.”

“My pleasure. Have a great day!”

Shortly thereafter, bedecked with their 'Just Married Mouse Ears' and their pin lanyards, they directed themselves toward the candy shop. Alex could smell the cooking sugar from across the street.

_This place is fantastic! I am so glad Louise suggested this as our honeymoon!_

**XxxxxxX**

“– after the meeting with President Yudhoyono in the oval office.”

Scott McClellan, the White House Press Secretary, shuffled his note cards for a moment before looking up at the assembled White House press corps. The action was hidden by the podium at which he was standing, but he knew the reporters were wise. Most of them were on their third or fourth Press Secretary and had long learned that when the person at the podium stared at it for a minute and their shoulders flexed, the note-cards were being shuffled. It told them that some important announcement was being moved down in priority, while a lesser announcement was suddenly being moved up.

“So, let me open it up to questions.” At that announcement, several reporters started shouting.

McClellan ignored the noise and pointed. “Sam?”

The reporter from CNN remained standing while everyone else sat back down. “Yes, Scott, is there any official comment from the White House on the disappearance of Norman Osborn?”

“Only that we hope he hasn't been victim of some accident.” Internally, McClellan smirked. This was going right where he needed it to go.

“A follow-up?” At McClellan's nod, the same reporter continued. “What about rumors that the Justice Department is opening an in-depth investigation into Norman Osborne and the actions he took while working for the Department of Homeland Security?”

“It is my understanding that such an investigation has begun.” McClellan was keeping his poker face in place.

Another reporter, the one from MSNBC, piped up. “Is is there any truth to the rumor that the President demanded Osborn's resignation before he disappeared?”

“There is no truth to that rumor, no. The President has not requested that Mr. Osborn resign, and as far as this administration is concerned, the man still has a job here. Though that may change, pending the results of the investigation.”

“How about the rumor that Osborn fled the country just ahead of an arrest warrant charging him with the embezzlement of the money Oscorp now claims it has lost precipitously?” The reporter from the Washington Post asked.

“I cannot comment on an ongoing investigation.” McClellan again smirked internally. That was a nice non-answer answer that would lead people to make appropriate if inaccurate conclusions.

“So, there is an investigation into these rumors?”

“I cannot comment on that, Joe. I've already said that.” Everyone quieted down as they all wrote in their notebooks.

“Scott, what can you tell us about the situation with Karen Starr?” MSNBC asked.

“In the last week, the president has met in closed discussion with the Secretary of Defense and the Attorney-General over Ms. Starr's case.” McClellan cleared his throat.” “A special prosecutor is investigating how Homeland Security mishandled her case, and is looking into allegations that her civil rights were violated.”

“Are SHIELD and the FBI still pursuing her, Scott?” The reporter from Fox News, who had basically been painting the Starr girl as the new Osama bin Ladin up until the blow-up south of San Francisco led to revelations of how she'd been mistreated, tossed in. Everyone knew that he really didn't care about the answer, just as everyone knew he was planning on continuing the 'teen super-terrorist' angle, but apparently, the man felt he should participate in the press conference at least once.

“While technically there are still warrants out for Ms. Starr's arrest, they have been either stayed or vacated by order of Judge Marsha Friedrich, who is on the Federal Appeals Court for the Ninth Circuit.” McClellan shuffled his cards again, just to keep his hands busy. “Until a conclusion has been reached regarding Homeland Security's treatment of her, no Federal law enforcement agency is actively pursuing Karen Starr.”

McClellan took a deep breath and pointed to the reporter from the Washington Times. The newspaper, whose ultra-conservative mandate came from its owner, the Christian cult-leader Sun Myung Moon, could always be counted on when the Bush administration needed someone to ask the questions they needed asking. “Mr. McClellan, is there any truth to the rumor that the government's pursuit of Karen Starr was part of a personal vendetta against Ms. Starr on the part of Norman Osborn?”

“I cannot comment on an ongoing investigation, naturally, but I can say that, according to some personal papers, apparently Mr. Osborn did harbor some animosity toward Ms. Starr.”

That caught everyone's attention. MSNBC shouted, “What would be the source of this animosity?”

McClellan shrugged. His work was done. “I have no idea.”

**XxxxxxX**

“In the tikki tikki tikki tikki tikki-room, in the tikki tikki tikki tikki tikki-room, dah dah dah deh dah deh dee dah dah doo, in the tikki tikki tikki tikki tikki-room!” Alex danced around Louise while singing. All Louise could do was watch her. “Hey, I got an idea! Let's go again, that was fun!”

“Oh sure. We go back in there, you're going to be singing that song all the way until we get out of 'Small World,' and then you'll be singing that song.” Louise chuckled. “I've got a better idea. Jungle Cruise.”

“You're no fun.” Alex pulled Louise in close and gave her a kiss on the back of her neck. “What about this tree-house thing? Isn't it next?”

“Bite your face! You might have super-endurance-powers but me, I get tired. I've got no interest in walking up and down stairs to see a diorama.”

Alex stopped and looked at the tree, her head cocked to the side. “Really? That's all it is?”

“Yeah. Boring, huh?”

Alex continued staring while Louise walked toward the boat ride. “Whose idea was it that stairs and a diorama would be fun?” Noticing she was all alone, she hurried after her girlfriend.

**XxxxxxX**

Tony Stark used his remote to turn the television off. He sat there in silence for a moment, ignoring the other person in the room.

Finally, he said, “I've got to hand it to McClellan. He's a master.” Tony Stark turned in his chair to take in Henry Peter Gyrich. The two of them were in Tony's office, watching the press conference. “I especially love how he implied that it was Norman Osborn's fault that the government overstepped their bounds when it came to the Starr girl.”

“Osborn is convenient. He's a nutball and everyone knows it, and we can pin whatever we want on him.” Gyrich shrugged. “Better than having the public doubt the Registration Act.”

“Should I assume that you haven't actually let up on your pursuit of the girl, then?”

Again, Gyrich shrugged. “We're keeping an eye out, but now, that's about all we can do. Most of your team is out injured, and SHIELD is down several dozen agents out with injuries. And as you've repeatedly pointed out, we might not have the resources necessary to control her. My people have been discussing out-of-the-box ideas, and some of them might work. None of them are very legal, mind you, and some of them are truly despicable.”

Stark face-palmed. “How are you defining truly despicable.”

“Don't worry about it.”

“When it comes to you, Henry, I always worry.” Stark leaned forward in his chair. “Look, she's just a kid. Leave her alone and let her be a kid. I doubt she's a threat to anyone.”

“Sure. That's what we used to think about the New Warriors, up until the moment they blew up a town in Connecticut.” Gyrich folded his hands together, the perfect picture of uncaring righteousness. “We're going to bring that girl under our control because by existing at all she's a danger to everyone on the planet.”

“Right. Henry, tell me, are you expending as much energy on figuring out a way to bring the Silver Surfer or Doctor Strange to heel as you are Karen Starr?”

Gyrich seemed to smirk. “Of course we are.” Gyrich looked at his watch and stood. “I've got to catch a connecting flight back to DC. So, as fascinating as this little talk has been, Mr. Stark, I really must be leaving.”

Tony Stark nodded. As soon as he knew for sure that Gyrich was out of his office, Stark pulled the cell-phone from his pocket and punched in some numbers.

_“Yeah, boss?”_

“Happy, are you still trailing them?”

_“Yep. Right now, their feeding each other bites of a caramel apple. It's adorable. Makes me remember being that young.”_

“We need to send them a message. Warn then that they're not as in the clear as they think they are.” Stark leaned back and put his feet up on the desk. “But we need to do it in a way that doesn't panic them, you know?”

_“Gyrich?”_

“Yeah.”

_“I hate that guy. He's such a prick. Okay, I have an idea. You got any specific wording or just want me to warn them?”_

Tony thought about it for a while. “Tell you what. Just let them know that they need to be careful and keep their heads down. I'd hate to see Gyrich Guantanamo the two of them, you know?”

_“Yeah, well, maybe you should have thought of that before you started tossing people into Reed Richards space prison without a trial.”_

“Hey, now wait a damned --”

_“I'm just saying. You really don't have a lot of room to complain about someone else doing it to the girls when you've done it to dozens of people.”_

“It is necessary for public safety to --”

_“Sure. That sort of thing always is. After all, that's the same excuse they used to put Japanese Americans into places like Manzanar and Minidoka and Amache. Look, I'm not going to argue with you. Not right now, anyway. I'll send your message. Do you want me to sign it for you, or is this an anonymous gift?”_

Stark sighed. He wasn't sure he liked the way the conversation had been going, and was glad his friend was letting him off the hook. “Use your best judgment, Happy. I trust you.”

_“Good to know. Talk to you later.”_

Stark sat there, looking at his darkened television. The point about the internment of Japanese Americans had struck home. “What the hell am I doing?” he asked the air. There was no answer, naturally.

**XxxxxxX**

_“Your attention, please. We do not allow cutting in line here at the world-famous Jungle Cruise. Anyone caught with a pair of scissors will be asked to leave.”_

 _As jokes go,_ Alex thought to herself, that one wasn't all that bad. She'd been offhandedly listening to the comedy routine coming from the loudspeakers. The jokes, along with strategically placed props, fans, and the occasional mister kept people in the line from rebelling and scalping the employees. “I'm beginning to think that Disney employees are experts at moving people around quickly.” Alex smiled at the little girl in line ahead of them. She got a wave in return.

“They're called cast members, not employees.” Louise looked up from the park map. “And how do you mean?”

“Well, according to my watch, we've been in line for about 10 minutes. Has it felt like ten minutes? I mean, we're almost to the boat already.”

The voice over the loudspeaker sounded. _“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please. Would the party that lost the roll of fifty $20.00 bills, wrapped in a red rubber band please report to the turnstile. We have good news for you.”_ Louise and Alex looked at each other, grinned, and along with the voice completed the joke. “We found your rubber band.”

They eventually loaded into the boat. Even the guy driving the boat was a comedian. “Come all the way to the front- up by me, folks!” He said over the boat's internal PA system. “Trust me, there's no truth to the rumor that you get a longer ride in back. That's it. That's it. That's the way. Slide all the way forward now... slide forward... Good. That's the only way we have of keeping the cushions clean!”

Alex groaned and put her head together with Louise. “Is this going to go on for the rest of the ride?”

“Oh, absolutely. Isn't it great?”

“Just as a note for you people in the back seats, there's no dancing in the back there, folks... no dancing... you must be seated throughout our cruise. Dancing is only allowed on the promenade deck.”

They began pulling away from the dock, and Alex gave Louise's hand a squeeze.

“Well folks, welcome aboard the S.S. Leaki Tiki. My name is Allen and I'll be your captain – unless we run into trouble, that is, in which case your new captain will be taking over. I'd like to take a moment to introduce our emergency backup Captain...” The captain pointed toward a middle-aged woman whose sunburned face matched her red shirt. “Sorry... What did you say your name was?”

**XxxxxxX**

Henry Peter Gyrich leaned down and pulled a Doctor Pepper from the office refrigerator he kept behind his desk. It wasn't strictly a part of his doctor-ordered diet, but he couldn't resist the taste of the soda. Never could, really, not since he was a boy. His grandfather used to take him on long walks, and inevitably they'd stop at the neighborhood grocers and share a bottle of the soda. Nearly sixty years later, it still brought back pleasant memories. He had just finished pouring the liquid into a glass with ice when his computer bleeped. He tapped a few buttons and a face appeared on the monitor. “Ah, good to see you again, Ms. Walker.”

Mary Walker, called Mutant Zero by her colleagues at the Initiative and formerly known as Typhoid Mary, bounty hunter and assassin, nodded at Gyrich through the webcam. _“You wanted to talk to me, sir?”_

“I have a task for you. It's not going to be easy, but I think it might be right up your alley.” Gyrich clicked some links on his computer and a picture appeared on the screen next to the livestream call. 

Walker studied it. _“Isn't that Karen Starr?”_

“It is indeed. I want you to find this person. I want you to capture her and I want you to bring her in for processing.”

 _“Excuse me, sir, but I thought she was flagged 'do not approach.' Wasn't Norman Osborn run out of Washington with an arrest warrant behind him for messing with this girl? The president said hands off.”_ Walker was still studying the file.

“Yes, well.” Gyrich shrugged. It was a fair enough question. “Let's say that what the president orders in private is sometimes different from what the president says in public and leave it at that. The president wants this young woman brought in.”

 _“Starr brought down the Avengers and a truck-load of SHIELD agents singe-handedly. She used Thor's hammer like a baseball bat and he was the ball. What makes you think I'm not going to get my own ass handed to me on a plate?”_ Walker's shudder was visible through the screen of Gyrich's computer. _“I'm not looking to get my head torn off my shoulders.”_

“Because, Ms. Walker, I expect you to be subtle. You're a precision instrument and they are blunt axes.” At Walker's continued look of disbelief, Gyrich continued. “Plus, I think the nature of your abilities might give you an edge.”

_“The nature of my abilities? How do you mean?”_

“Karen Starr is a physically dominant specimen, it’s true. But so far, we've not seen her deal with someone whose powers are, shall we say, more cerebral.”

Walker was silent for a while, then nodded. _“Okay, but I expect hazard pay for this.”_

“You'll get it.”

“And do we have any idea where she is?”

“As a matter of fact, we do. The first voice you're about to hear is that of Harold Hogan. He's one of Stark's people. Works as a trouble-shooter doing personal errands that Stark can't trust to anyone else. In this case, Stark wanted Hogan to track down Starr. We weren't able to decrypt all of the call, but we got some of it. The second voice is Stark himself.” Gyrich pushed a few buttons on is keyboard, and suddenly an electronically recorded voice sounded across the link.

 

 _“There at the happiest place on Earth, Tony. Celebrating their – the recording dropped into indistinct static and electronic whines – … ng hands and being all shy when they kiss. It’s pretty cute.”_ “Disneyland? They're going to Disneyland?”

 _“Yep. – again, there was nothing but static – Which reminds me. I'm going to be –_ the message dropped into static and did not recover.

 _“All right._ Walker said. _It'll take me about four hours to get to Anaheim. Hopefully I'll be able to pick up their trail once I'm there.”_

“Good. Call me when the mission is done.” Gyrich closed the connection. He pulled a notepad from a pocket and crossed off an item from his to-do list.

**XxxxxxX**

Alex leaned in and hugged Louise to her. They held their heads together, both grinning and happy as they watched a Disney cast member named Andy fiddle with an expensive-looking camera on a stand. Andy was giving the two girls directions and waving his hands a lot while he lined them up for the perfect photograph. Behind them was Sleeping Beauty's Castle.

“Okay, get closer. Smile big.” Andy lifted his head from the viewfinder. “Wave to the camera, and – there. Let me get one more – perfect!” Alex and Louise relaxed. Andy dug a white card out of his fanny pack and held it in front of a notebook computer, then handed it to Louise. “You can pick those up at the camera shop in Main Street square. And if you want someone else like me to take your picture, just hand them that card and it'll be added to the database automatically.”

“Thanks, Andy!” Louise gave Alex another hug.

**XxxxxxX**

_To recount today's top story, several local charity organizations are reporting anonymous cash donations being received over the past seventy-two hours. Roving reporter Todd Brushwood is on the scene at the Saint Bridget's Convent in downtown Los Angeles, where the sisters there apparently found a gym bag filled with hundred dollar bills on their stoop this morning. Todd..._

**XxxxxxX**

“AH!” Alex yelled in shock. She put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, golly!”

Louise put her mouth right next to Alex's ear and whispered, “Oh come on, ya big scaredy cat! Calm down! It’s not that scary.” They were sharing a Doom Buggy in the Haunted Mansion, taking advantage of the darkness to sit as close as possible and engage in some elicit necking. At least that was the plan. Alex was finding it difficult to concentrate.

Alex blushed, embarrassed and slightly annoyed that Louise was laughing at her. She gave her partner's thigh a quick squeeze and whispered back, “It’s not the ghosts. It’s when those shrieky things jump out at us all of a sudden.”

It did nothing to keep Louise from laughing. “I thought you could see in the dark, and see through walls and such. Can't you see the scares coming?”

Alex stared at her, a look of mild outrage on her face. “What? No! That's cheating!” She was thrown off guard as the car abruptly turned around backward and leaned. Louise took advantage of the imbalance by 'steadying herself' by putting a hand on the nearest of Alex's breasts.

“Getting comfortable, are we?” Alex grinned at Louise as the car righted itself. She looked at her partner's hand, still sitting where it was on her left breast. Louise didn't even attempt to hide the grin. “You've got until the end of the ride to move that. Before someone sees what you're doing.”

“Oh, I'm sure someone's already seen. They've got cameras everywhere, watching to make sure no one gets out of the car.” Louise's grin got wider.

Alex abruptly whipped her head around, keying her vision to penetrate the darkness. She spotted four different cameras pointed in their general direction just within the nearest twenty feet. As gently, but at the same time as swiftly, as she could she grabbed Louise's hand and pulled it away.

“You're no fun.” Louise began to pout. Alex couldn't tell if it was serious or not.

“I'm just not into giving people a show, baby. Save it for when we've got some privacy, okay? Please? I mean, I don't mind kissing and all, but ease up on the groping.”

“Fine.” 

Alex winced. Now she was getting huffy. “Louise, please don't make a thing out of this. I'm just not as – as –” Alex searched for the right word.

“As big a slut?”

“What? No. I'm just, you know, shy about it. Sex, I mean. I don't want to be watched. I mean, other than you.” Alex blushed. There had been that one night where 'watching' was the primary entree on the menu. It had been fun, but –

“Okay. I get it. No free shows for the public. Let's finish the ride.” Alex was gratified that Louise leaned in and hugged her despite being annoyed.

They were quiet for a while. Louise wasn't looking at Alex anymore, but didn't seem to be noticing the end of the ride. As they were leaving the Haunted Mansion, Alex grabbed Louise's hand and gave it a squeeze. “Love you, you know.”

Louise smiled, but it was limited somehow. “Love you too. I worry sometimes that you're going to suddenly remember what I used to do for a living and decide that you can't stand me.”

“Well, that's not going to happen.” Alex put herself in front of Louise. “Here, hop on.” She caught Louise as the other girl jumped up on her back. Alex could do piggy-back duty with Louise for weeks before getting annoyed or tired. “Besides, I've got a lot more to worry about. Technically, I'm not even human, remember? Strange visitor from another planet and all that?”

“Oh, please.” Louise giggled. The sound of it made Alex feel better. “You forget, I've seen you bare-assed. You might have been born on another planet, but you're as human as any other Playboy magazine centerfold.”

“I'll have you know there's some important physiological and anatomical differences between Kryptonians and Humans.” Alex feigned offense. “Very important differences indeed!”

“Yeah? Name one.”

“Uh. –” Alex hurriedly searched Kara's memories. “Oh! No appendix. Kryptonians don't have an appendix.”

“Really? An appendix? That's it?” Louise was chortling at this. “Wow! I'm married to a monster from outer space, cleverly disguised as a human by pretending to have an appendix.”

“Don't tease.” Alex bounced Louise for a moment, getting a better grip. “I'll have you know that our hearts are also on the other side of our bodies, and humans have one more set of molars than we do. Oh, and you have twice as much body hair per square inch. Let's see, what else?” Alex went quiet, thinking. She called up Kara's memories of Kryptonian physiology compared to human beings. Kara wasn't an expert, though. It was mostly trivia-level knowledge.

“You know, there are actually some things that give humans advantages over Kryptonians, or, you know, they would if Earth didn't orbit a yellow sun making us all physical gods.”

“Well, tell me, your divine magnificence. Give this pitiful mortal the benefit of your immortal wisdom. How are the gods worse off than us measly creatures?” Louise smirked the whole while through.

“Oh shush, you. What I mean are things like, you are wider-ranging omnivores than we are. We're omnivorous, but plants make less of a percentage of our diets than you, which means humans can get a wider range of nutrients from plant matter than we do. You have fewer allergic reactions than we do – trust me, if I wasn't all super and everything, I'd be addicted to Claritin by now. Oh, and you're capable of detecting more shades of color than I can. I mean, sure I can see x-rays, but you're capable telling, like, twelve thousand shades of red apart from one another, and I can only see something like two thousand. To me, coral and salmon are the same color: pink.”

Louise just giggled. “You know, I think I read somewhere about the heart thing happening naturally in a small percentage of people.”

Alex just smiled. “So, what next?”

“Critter Country. Let's hit Splash Mountain. And then lunch. I'm getting hungry.” Louise kissed Alex on the side of the next. “Onward my faithful steed! Hi-yo Silver, away!”

Alex made a horsey noise and skipped down the path, all the while avoiding slamming into other people. They turned the corner into Critter Country, only to come to a complete stop.

“Wow! That's some line.” Alex looked at the advertised wait times above the entrance to the line. Seventy-five-minute wait on standby, thirty-minute wait with fast-passes. Splash Mountain was beginning to look like a slog. “So, uh, we got any idea what time it is?”

Louise held her wrist out in front of Alex's face. “About twenty after twelve. You want to just skip directly to lunch?”

“I guess so. We should have thought about fast-passes.”

“Probably. What do you want to eat?” Louise asked. “If I remember correctly there's some great barbecue over near the roller coaster.”

“There's a barbecue roller coaster? I'm so there!”

**XxxxxxX**

“Sister Mary Rose! Sister Mary Rose!”

“Calm down, Alma. There's no need for you to be bouncing around like a Pekingese puppy. Take a deep breath and tell me what you need to say.” Sister Mary Rose carefully pruned another dead stalk from the rose bush as she looked over her spectacles at the convent's youngest initiate. The bush was a violet Elizabethan rose, a gift from a woman who was now wealthy and influential but who had once been a terrified street kid. The blossoms were much simpler than the common roses, but the simplicity suited Rose's nature. It stood alone in the center of the convent's back yard, surrounded by the vegetables the nuns grew to feed themselves.

The bush was also the personal domain of the head of the convent. The other nuns could look, but they knew better than to touch.

“Sorry, Sister. Sister Mary Clarence is in your office. She says you have to come see what got left on the stoop last night!” Mary Rose sighed. The young nun was devout, and studious, but she had too much energy for one person.

“All right, give me a moment.” The elder nun climbed to her feet with the slow grace that being in your seventies and maintaining your health gives you. She took the gardening gloves off and tucked them into her belt, and dusted herself off. Satisfied she wasn't going to track dirt into the areas that she knew other initiates were cleaning, she headed for her office.

When she got there, she was greeted by the sight of three of her more senior nuns, Sister Mary Clarence, Sister Mary Patrick, and Sister Mary Robert, clustered around her desk with their heads together.

“Harum-hmmm” Mary Rose cleared her throat, causing the other nuns to separate enough for Rose to see the athletic bag. “What's all this.”

Mary Clarence grinned at her. “You're not going to believe this at all. It was left on the stoop. Mary Lazarus found it when she went out to sweep. Look.”

Mary Rose leaned over the bag and opened it. She blinked, looked at the other nuns, and blinked again. Then she turned her attention back to the bag.

“Who – who –” It occurred to her that she was doing a fair impression of an owl. “What?” It was too much. With no warning, Sister Mary Rose fainted. Mary Robert caught her before she could collapse across the gym bag, which had been stuffed full of hundred dollar bills.

**XxxxxxX**

“Fantasyland is where they keep the kiddie-rides?” Alex looked askance at the Circus Train. “I mean, kiddie rides are cool and all, but I'm more of a roller coaster-fun house type of person.”

“Aw, come on. Some of these are fun.” Louise tugged on Alex's hand. “You'll see. I mean, look – Dumbo!”

“Riding around in circles in a car shaped like an elephant? Pass.”

“Okay, how about the Carousel.” Louise said. “I know, it’s still just going around in circles, but it’s a classic. And I want to see you on a wooden horse.”

“There's a dirty joke in there, you know.” Alex smirked. They both glanced at a nearby man who'd fallen into a coughing fit. Alex turned to him in concern. “You okay, sir?”

“Yeah, sure, no problem. Soda –” the man held up a drink cup. “Went down the wrong pipe. But thanks for asking. The man vanished into the crowd.

“Glad he's okay. Now what did you mean about –” It obviously took a moment for it to click with Louise, but when she did, she blushed. “Gutter mind. And where did Sweet Polly Purebread hear about riding wooden horses? Hmm?” 

It was Alex's turn to blush. “Let's just say that some of Kara's tastes in, uh, personal interaction weren't as vanilla as you might think.”

“Really? We're going to have to explore that aspect of your memories, baby.” Louise looked at the map of the park. “Okay, so we do the carousel and then we can do the Mad Tea Party after. You'll like that; you can watch me get so motion-sick I puke!”

“Oh, I'm for that!” Alex sniffed, suddenly. “What is that I'm smelling?”

“No idea. Good smell, bad smell?”

“Good smell. Smells like roses.” Alex sniffed again. “Wonder where that's coming from.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, if you'll ride the carousel with me, we'll do the Tea Party, then Pinocchio's and Mister Toad's. Then we'll do Small World and the Matterhorn. Maybe head to Toon Town and do the roller coaster there.”

“Sure. Sounds good. Let's go ride the wooden horse.” Alex couldn't stop joking about it, but the thought of it made her blush every time.

**XxxxxxX**

“What do you mean, it’s all gone?” Norman Osborn screamed into the phone. “I want you to explain to me how a forty-ton shipping container gets hijacked out of the secure yard, taken to the parking lot of some abandoned greaser shit-hole, and then cleaned out without someone noticing the fucking crane needed to load the crate onto the fucking semi-truck needed to haul it away! Explain that to me, Desmond!”

_“I got no answer for you, Mr. Osborn. I'm just telling you what I know.”_

Osborn forced himself to start breathing normally. There was no point in screaming at Desmond Arsuba. He paused in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his suite, and took in the site of city. Dubai at night was a beautiful place, especially when seen from the penthouse suite of the Burj al-Arab. They didn't call it the most luxurious hotel in the world for nothing. “Did anyone sweep the container for prints?”

_“All kinds of prints. Many on the inside. So far, we've eliminated most of the bonded dock-workers who were on shift that night, and couldn't have left with the crate.”_

“Good. Just in case the people who robbed me left their fingerprints on my cargo container, do me the courtesy of removing everyone you can identify.” For emphasis, Norman added, “Just in case.”

_“I'll get a team on it.”_

“You do that, Desmond. And while you're at it, find me a replacement for the car, the computer, and the big screen television. The money I'll call a loss; wasn't my money anyway, so it’s not like it’s coming out of my pocket. But I want my toys.” A sudden thought occurred to Osborn. “Oh, and Desmond? Look at the super-human angle. I can name at least four super-human criminals who could have toted that crate right out the front gate with it slung across their shoulders. If one of the merry men took my container, I want to be able to express my great displeasure to them personally.”

_“No problem, Mr. Osborn.”_

**XxxxxxX**

Alex hugged Louise. “I love my wife. She takes me to all the neatest places!”

Louise hugged her back, but had a funny look on her face. “You want to go back to Space Mountain, don't you? Alex, you rode the thing five times already.”

“Not necessarily.” Alex's face was perfectly deadpan. “Can't I hug the love of my life and let her know how precious she is to me without having an agenda?”

“Yes, you can. But are you doing it right now?”

“Hey, want another piggy-back ride?” Alex turned around to let Louise jump on. Louise sighed, rolled her eyes, and did as was asked.

“Okay, Silver, so where is the Lone Ranger off to now?” Louise kissed Alex on the ear and lay her head on her wife's shoulder.

Alex stopped joking around. “You okay?”

“Just a little tired, is all.” Louise snuggled in and closed her eyes.

“You want to go back to the hotel room?” Alex checked her watch. “We got about four hours until dinner. We can go back to our hotel room, take a quick nap, get cleaned up, change into some good clothes, and make it to our reservation. That sound okay?” She felt Louise nod slightly. The sight of Louise's face relaxing into sleep made Alex smile. “Okay, hon, I'll take us back to our room. You just hold on.”

**XxxxxxX**

Happy Hogan almost choked on his ice cream when he heard the 'wooden horse' joke. And they looked like such sweet kids. He thought his cover was blown when Alex Harris spoke to him. “You okay, sir?”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.” He desperately searched for an explanation. Right. Got it. He held up the near-empty soda cup he'd purchased to help his cover. “Soda went down the wrong pipe. But thanks for asking.” He made a swift getaway, moving to the other side of the carousel but trying to keep them in his eye-line.

 _It might be time to drop active surveillance._ Happy knew where they were going to be later, after all. When the pair had made their dinner reservation, Happy had been right alongside them, setting up a reservation for him, his wife, and their two kids. It was a decent enough cover story and he paid enough attention to the two girls to know they were having dinner at the Napa Rose at 6 pm. They'd most likely return to their hotel room before going to the restaurant.

So he had a plan. He's meet them at the Napa Rose, and deliver the message.

**XxxxxxX**


	19. Nihil Aliud Esse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_I'll never let you down, even if I could._  
 _I'll give up everything, if only for your good..._  
 _\-- **3 Doors Down** , “When I'm Gone”_

**XxxxxxX**

The Sizzling Beach Rock appetizer, a platter for two that featured garlic-seared shrimp, glazed spare ribs, and skewers of chicken wrapped in lemon-grass, was a fading memory. Alex's plank-baked salmon was gone. Louise's duck breast was history. All that was left was the bread-basket and the remains of their soup, a bisque of Portobello Mushrooms with cappuccino foam.

Alex tore a piece from her bread stick and dipped it in the remains of her soup. Popping the bread into her mouth, she chewed, swallowed, and said, “You know, this soup has a hundred and one uses. I mean, look at me.” She waved her hand, still holding the remains of the bread stick, over her plate. “I've eaten it as soup, ladled it over my potatoes, and now I'm dipping my bread stick in it.” She put the bread down, wiped her fingers on her napkin, then reached across the table to grasp her partner's hand. “What do you think about dessert?”

“Dessert? Are you kidding?” Louise leaned back in her chair and patted her tummy. “You can't possibly still be hungry, Alex! It’s just not humanly possible.” Louise shook her head. “I mean, I've got no room at all. If I eat anything else, I'll explode.”

“Not even a wafer-thin mint?” Alex giggled. At Louise's expression, she continued. “Oh come on, that's a Python reference! Don't tell me you've never seen _The Meaning of Life_!”

“Python? Oh, like Monty Python? I think I saw the one where they were knights.”

“ _Holy Grail_ , right. But you've seen the TV show, right?” Alex loved Monty Python, which made sense in an odd way, given that both Xander and Kara had been fans. “Tell me you've at least seen the TV show.”

“Monty Python was a TV show?” Louise's expression was one of innocent naivete.

Alex started to protest Louise's blasphemy when she caught the sparkle in her partner's eye. “You're pulling my leg, right?”

“Oh yes. Seriously, I've only ever seen _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_ , but I do know they had a TV show in the 70s.”

“We'll have to remedy that. I'm sure the show and all the movies are on DVD. Even the movies that are only technically Monty Python movies.” Alex took a sip of her tea. She played around with the remains of the bread stick some more before deciding to take another bite of it.

“There are Monty Python movies that aren't actually Monty Python movies?” The confused look on her partner's face told Alex all she needed to know. Louise had led a sheltered life, before she got tossed out onto the streets by her parents, and after she had been tossed out hadn't had a lot of chances to expand her horizons. It was up to Alex to bring Louise into the sunshine.

“Yeah. Most of them were done with either only a partial Monty Python cast, or else were done as separate projects and are counted by fans even though they aren't technically Python movies.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there's _Jabberwocky_ , _Erik the Viking_ , _The Adventures of Baron Munchhausen_ , uh, some people count _A Fish Called Wanda_ , but I don't.” Alex thought for a moment, then expounded. “Excellent movie, but not really a Python film. Oh, uh, _Brazil_ , sometimes.”

“I think I've seen _Brazil_. Confused the hell out of me.” Louise said.

“That's the one. I think it’s because it's –” Alex stopped talking. A small contingent of the Napa Rose's servers were approaching. One was carrying a tray and another had an iced champagne bucket with a bottle in it. The rest were empty handed. The waitress carrying the tray put large slices of white cake, heavily decorated with fondant, in front of them. The waiter with the bottle put the bucket on a side-table and began worrying at the cork. “What's this? We didn't order –”

“Yes ma'am, it’s a gift from the management, in celebration of your nuptials!” Like all Disney cast members, the waiter, whose name tag red 'Amir,' was far too cheerful. He was also quite obviously very gay, using both definitions of the word. “Don't worry about the cost, darling. Your dinner and the celebratory dessert has been paid for by your friend over there.” He pointed toward the entrance. Alex and Louise both looked over to see a man in a well-tailored gray suit give them a quick off-hand salute.

“Wedding cake and some sparkling white grape juice.” The waiter popped the cork on the bottle and poured the juice into two flutes as if it were Moet & Chandon Brut Imperial 1895. “A little birdy told us that neither of you is 21 yet, so enjoy the juice. And the cake! And congratulations to the happy couple!” The assembled servers all applauded.

Alex kept glancing over at the man. He looked vaguely familiar, and thinking about it she remembered seeing him several times around Disneyland. He always was close by, no matter where they went in the park. Alex just hadn't put two and two together about him. She turned back to Louise, who was herself alternating between staring at the man and then looking back at the cake. “What should we do, Alex?”

“I don't know.” She stared at the cake and the drinks. “I don't think Disney would poison us, so it’s probably okay to eat the cake, and we saw him open the bottle, so it’s probably safe.”

“Yeah, but its creepy as fuck that some stranger knew we got married.” Louise was still staring at the man, who waved them toward the cake and mouthed the word 'enjoy.' “And even if he did find out we just got married, why would he give a shit? I mean, we're using our new – ” She turned to Alex with wide, wide eyes. “Oh shit, Alex! What if he knows who we are?”

Alex had already gone down that line of reasoning. “If so, then he should know not to fuck with us.” Unsmiling, she pointed to the man, then pointed to a spot on the carpet right next to their table. The gesture left no question as to what she meant, nor did her expression. If the guy really knew who she was, he also knew not to make her angry. She wanted to talk to him, right fucking now!

In response, the guy held his hands up. He was nodding as he approached. The guy grabbed a chair from an empty table and sat. He sighed, then smiled at them both. “I really do mean the congratulations. It’s not often you get in on the ground floor with a couple who is so obviously in love with one another.” The two young women couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic.

“I want to know who you are, Mister, and I want to know why I shouldn't break your arms and legs on our way out of here.” Alex was fuming mad. The fingers of her left hand were tapping against the cherry wood of the tabletop and were beginning to leave indentations.

“My name's Harold Hogan. Call me 'Happy,' everybody does. I work for Tony Stark.”

“You work for Iron Man. Get your purse, Louise. We're leaving!” Alex's voice was flat and emotionless. She raised a hand to call the waiter for their check. “So, is he waiting outside with the rest of his army? Sooner or later you people are going to piss me off beyond caring if I kill someone. Why can't you just leave us alone?”

“It’s taken care of. Your meal tonight. I already paid for it.” The man, Hogan, said. He appeared unruffled. “So's your hotel bill. Courtesy of Mister Stark. A wedding gift if you will. And I'm here alone. I was asked to keep an eye on the two of you, so that's all I've been doing. I should say, you two were very cute today. Looked like you were having fun. I'm not here to spoil it, believe it or not. I'm here to help.”

“How? By interrupting our honeymoon?” Louise was glaring. If looks could kill...

“Well, no. I just wanted you to know that as far as Tony can tell, no one is on you right now, but –”

“But?” Alex could feel her teeth grind together.

“But, despite the public statements made by the president, the government – or at least certain people in the government – hasn't really given up on you. There's this guy, named Gyrich --”

“The mutant guy? With, uh, what was it called, Project Wide-Awake or something? He was the one who ordered the Sentinel robots built, right?” Alex scoured Xander's memory. “Wasn't he the one who authorized the Brotherhood of Mutants to rename themselves Freedom Force or some bullshit and work for him as enforcers.”

“Yeah, that's the one. I've met him. He's an asshole.” Hogan stood and returned the chair to the other table. “Anyway, I just wanted to give you guys the heads-up. Tony's decided that his people are going to sit this one out from now on. SHIELD and the Avengers, I mean. But they aren't the only game in town, so be careful. I really meant it when I said how cute you guys are.” He gave them his winning smile. “I'm rootin' for you.” He gave them a little wave, and left.

“So what do we do now?” Louise stared after the retreating man. “I mean, do we just, uh, sit here and eat our cake?”

Amir returned to the table in response to Alex's summons. “Yes, ma'am? What can I bring you?”

“A couple of to-go boxes for the cake and a cork for the bottle.” Alex downed her flute of juice in one pull. “We have to go unfortunately. But we want to enjoy the cake later.” Louise nodded and downed her own juice.”

“Certainly.” Amir hustled off.

Within minutes they were back in their car, and shortly thereafter pulling into the letway of the Disneyland Resort. “Okay, Hogan said we weren't in any immediate danger, and if there's anyone who'd know, it'd be Stark. We can take a deep breath before we panic, okay?” Surprisingly, it was Louise who was reassuring Alex.

“We should pack and get out of here. If they know we're here – do you think they know about the suite at the Beverly?”

“Probably. I don't know.” Louise shrugged. “At least Stark does, that's almost guaranteed. Hogan said Stark wasn't coming after us. Whoever is coming after us is someone else. Like the FBI maybe?”

“Yeah, okay. We still have the gym bag in the trunk.” The bag in question was stacked full of bundles of hundred dollar bills. “As long as we got that, we can start over wherever we land. We were heading to Florida once we were done with the honeymoon, anyway.” Alex looked over at Louise. “Sweetie, I know you wanted to go to California Adventure, but I think we might need to take a rain check.”

They crossed the lobby of the resort to the elevators and rode up to their floor. “Yeah, okay. Hey, we're heading to Florida, right? They have theme parks there.” Louise laughed. Alex couldn't tell if she was being serious or not.

“Yeah, sure.” Alex rolled her eyes. “Let's get packed and get out. Hogan said Stark paid for the room. We'll grab our stuff, jump in the car. 91 will take us to I-10, and from there we're gone. We'll eat our wedding cake on the way to Phoenix.” Alex had the route all plotted out and programmed into their car's GPS system.

“Hey,” Alex dug around in her purse a moment. “Did I leave my room key in the room?”

Still digging around in her bag, Alex didn't see Louise's expression, but she did hear it when she sighed. “Here, I got mine.” Louise opened the door to their suite.

**XxxxxxX**

Alex was stunned, it all happened so fast. One minute she and Louise were planning their getaway, the next they Louise was down and some unknown bitch in fishnets and red leather was coming at her with a sword. Alex didn't recognize the woman, but it didn't matter. She'd be just another hospital patient soon. That was the price for hurting Louise. Alex swung for the woman's head with enough force to put her out like a light, only to watch the woman swerve out of the way before the punch could land. Alex swung again, faster this time, too fast for any human to react quickly enough to dodge, and yet the woman dodged it.

“Fuck!” Alex couldn't help but cry out. The woman in red had brought her sword down on Alex's arm, cutting it open to the bone! Alex pulled her injured limb back toward her body. She took a quick glance at the injury and felt her gorge rise. It was true, she could see all the way to the bone. Everything below her elbow was useless meat. Alex desperately ran through all the possibilities as she ducked under the woman's second swing. She felt the blade pass through hair and winced as long golden threads of hair fell to the floor.

For a second time, Alex dodged to the side, barely missing the blade. She concentrated past the pain, activating her heat vision to burn the woman, but again the assailant seemed to move out of the way before Alex's attack landed. Instead, one of the windows sagged in its frame before breaking. Alex was beginning to sweat, now. Nothing was working. Nothing was working. She made a clumsy swing with her uninjured arm, and barely pulled back in time to save herself another nasty cut. Finally, Alex lunged, hoping to bear the woman in red to the floor.

Instead the woman pirouetted in place and drove her sword straight through Alex's chest and out her back. Alex gasped at the pain. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. There was no air. No air at all. The woman slowly pulled the sword out of Alex's body. Almost from outside herself, Alex watched her knees crumble. Reflexively, she curled in on herself and fell over on her side, the blood from the wound pooling beneath her. There was no air. There was no air. She couldn't breathe.

Alex closed her eyes.

**XxxxxxX**

Mary heard the door's lock click and tensed, preparing herself for action. It wasn't hard to guess where the two women were staying, and once she'd confirmed they were in the hotel, it was child's play to find the room. So she lay in wait. Mary concentrated on not being seen. Her mental abilities weren't as flexible as a regular telepath, but the one thing she could do was alter other people's perceptions. In this case, it could hide her.

The door opened and the taller one, Starr, walked past, dropping her purse on a short table. The other girl, Fulford, walked past Mary's hiding place and did the same thing. Mary watched as the two of them collected up every personal item in the suite's main room and shove it into one purse or the other, one suitcase or the other. When they were done, the Fulford girl did a quick spin, taking in the entire room, before saying, “Alex, I'll get everything out of the bathroom. You start shoving the dirty laundry in a bag. Don't worry about mixing it with clean, we'll just wash everything.”

The other woman nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

It was time. Mary dropped the concealment and attacked. She punched the Fulford girl with a backhanded left while drawing her sword. Fulford was knocked back by the blow, lost her footing, and fell across the glass table. It shattered into thousands and thousands of shards. Mary spared Fulford one glance before putting her full attention on Starr; Fulford was down. She wasn't the target anyway. Mary turned and concentrated her effort on Starr.

Starr rushed at her, faster than she expected, but the connection had already been made, and Mary avoided getting hit by a fist that could shatter steel simply by causing Starr to throw the punch somewhere else. Mary brought her sword down across Starr's extended arm as hard as she could. Her concentration almost wavered as she saw the blade of her weapon turn aside and bend, just slightly, because of the impact. As it was, she was finding it difficult to keep a hold on Starr's mind. It felt odd. And it moved very quickly. Much more quickly than normal for a non-telepath.

Mary gritted her teeth. It was time to end this before it got out of hand. Time to make the girl think she was dying. It wouldn't take but –

The Starr girl clipped Mary on the shoulder as the assassin closed. It wasn't a solid blow, more like a graze, but it was enough to break her collar bone and render her arm on that side utterly useless. Mary bit back a scream. She had to keep her concentration to end this. Mary ground her teeth together and lunged forward to slap a hand directly onto the forehead of the target. She unleashed her power on the Starr girl, pouring everything she had into convincing Starr's body that it was seriously injured and falling into unconsciousness.

The girl's eyes fluttered, showing nothing but whites, and she collapsed to the floor like a discarded marionette. It was only then that Typhoid Mary allowed herself the luxury of a closed-mouthed scream at the pain from her injured shoulder. She cradled her useless arm long enough to scream three more times before finally shaking it off. It still hurt, but she could work. With her working arm, Mary fished her cell phone out of a side-pocket and punched four numbers.

_“Levinson's Deli, this is Joe speaking. How may I help you?”_

“Priority code 840-0083. Red Alpha.” Mary shook her head again, trying to keep it clear for the report. Everything in her vision was tinged pink from the pain. There was a series of loud clicks, then a tone, and then Henry Peter Gyrich's voice.

_“Is she ready for pick-up?”_

“Affirmative. Collection team needs to hurry. I need an on-site medic as well. She broke my God-damned shoulder.”

_“I'll let them know. Good work. They'll be there shortly, secure the scene and wait where you are. They've got a --”_ Mary’s vision flashed white for a moment, unexpectedly. Gyrich was still speaking – Mary could hear words coming from the cell phone – but Mary could no longer hear what he was saying. The man's voice had gone all foggy, like he was speaking quietly down an echoing hallway. Mary felt more than saw the second flare of light that had accompanied Gyrich's further transformation from distant to sort of whispering.

Mary realized she'd been hit by something, but she couldn't see anything there. She was dizzy. Vertigo had come to claim her. The pink tinge in her vision had begun to go flat and gray. There was a strange feeling in her gut, like gravity had just been canceled. Slowly – it felt slow to her, anyhow – Mary turned her entire body to see behind her. Turning just her head hurt too much. Once around, she was surprised to see the other girl, Fulford, standing there. Fulford was yelling something at her, but again, it all sounded like whispering.

Fulford whispered another scream at Mary, and raised her arm. Mary tried to concentrate on the object that Fulford was holding. It was thick and heavy and green, and seemed to be wrapped in silver.

**XxxxxxX**

Louise watched the woman who had attacked them crumple to the floor. For good measure, she raised the bottle of sparkling white grape juice and hit the unknown attacker in the head with it a third time, opening a cut above the woman's brow and turning half her face into a swollen field of bruises. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice as telling her that a third time was enough. Louise stared down at the woman, idly noting that she was still breathing, even if her breathing pattern was labored. She didn't look familiar, this would-be assassin. Just another person who wanted to do harm.

“Hey, Lady? You dropped your phone.” Louise bent over and picked the device up, wincing at the pain the movement caused. Her back was covered in small cuts, and some of those cuts still held slivers of glass. But she was tough. She had to be tough for Alex. “You look really weird, your face half-painted like that.” She gave the fallen woman a quick kick to the ribs. Twice. Okay, three times but the last one wasn't as enthusiastic as the first two.

Okay, four times. Only until the woman groaned. It wasn't a very loud groan, either.

“Stop complaining, bitch. You earned it.” Louise stared at the cell phone for a moment. The number on the screen was identified as 'Gyrich, Washington', whatever that meant. She brought it to her ear. “Hello?”

_“Mary?”_

“Oh, was that her name? No, this isn't Mary. Is this Mr. Gyrich, in Washington?” Louise pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. Whoever it was had hung up abruptly. She shrugged and tossed the thing aside. Louise gave 'Mary' one last kick in the ribs before moving toward her wife.

“Come on, Alex. Wake up. You have to wake up.” Louise crouched above Alex's head and slapped her on the cheeks. There was no response other than Louise shaking her hands. “Probably hurts me than is waking you up. What do I do?” Louise had overheard the woman say a collection team was on the way. That wasn't a good thing. What could she do?

Louise dumped the roses out of one of the vases and ran for the bathroom. She filled it with cold water from the tub, ran back, and dumped directly down Alex's throat. To Louise's surprise, it worked! Alex sat up, sputtering and blinking her eyes. Louise smiled at her partner, who coughed, then grabbed at her chest as if she was looking for something.

“I got stabbed! What happened? I got stabbed!”

“It was all in your head, Alex.” Louise tilted her head toward the unconscious woman, this 'Mary' person. “She slapped her hand on your forehead and you went down.”

Alex blinked at the unconscious woman in red. “What happened to her?”

With a smile, Louise reached, stretched, and put a finger on the discarded grape juice bottle. “I hit her with this a couple of times in the back of the head, and when she turned around to look at me, I hit her in the front of the head too. Look, we need to get out of here, like now. She was talking on the phone to some guy named Gyrich in Washington, and he's sending a collection team. Can you get up?”

Alex nodded. Louise stood and backed away, and Alex climbed to her own feet. “Okay, let's grab our stuff and go.” Louise turned to resume the packing she began before the attack.

“Oh baby, your back!” Alex's eyes were wide. Both of her hands were to her mouth.

“Yeah, it stings like a bitch. I'll be okay.” Louise shrugged. “You might need to pull some glass out later. But I figure all I need are those... whatcha call it. Those things the boxers use. I'll be okay. I can still move. I'm tougher than I look, sweetie.”

Two minutes later, Alex and Louise crossed the lobby. They ducked into a gift-shop just in time to be missed by eight men in identical suits as they entered the hotel and immediately headed for the elevators.

**XxxxxxX**

Parkinson glanced around the suite. As expected, there wasn't any sign of the targets. They might be able to pull fingerprints, but he doubted there'd be anything else. Other than the bloodstains and the shattered table, of course. He sighed. Nothing ever went smoothly. Oh well. Continuing his sweep, Parkinson's eyes landed on the discarded cell phone, barely visible from where it lay under one of the overturned chairs. He picked it up absently and put it in his pocket. The thing was a prepaid burner, and now that it had been used, it would be cleaned, reprogrammed, and used again, but for now it was useless. Waste not want not, though, was ingrained. Speaking of cell phones, he took his own out and punched a quick combination of buttons.

_"Levinson's Deli, this is Joe speaking. How may I help you?”_

“Priority code 833-0147. Blue Gamma.”

He waited as the phone clicked in his ear.

_“What's the situation?”_

“Mary's down and down hard. According to the medic, she's got a busted shoulder. Plus, someone did a number on her head.” One of the other agents held up what looked like a bloody champagne bottle. Parkinson waved the guy over and took the bottle from him. “Looks like the weapon of choice was a bottle of bubbly. No, wait... it says Welches. She got beat up with a bottle of grape juice. One of the fancy ones that looks like champagne.”

_“Had to have been the girlfriend. The target wouldn't have needed it.”_

“Huh. Yeah, makes sense. I mean, it’s stupid to let an untrained teenager with no superhuman abilities beat you down like that, but hey, what do I know.” Parkinson shrugged into the air. “Do you have any instructions, or do you want us to handle it in the usual way?”

_“Extract Mary from the scene, then clean the room. I want there to be no sign anyone was there at all.”_

Parkinson stared at the pile of shattered glass and broken bamboo that was once a coffee table. “That might be a little difficult, sir. I'm not set up to replace furniture.”

_“Replace furniture?”_

“Yes, sir. One of those glass tabletop coffee tables the hipsters are so hot for lately got busted up.” Parkinson nodded as the other agents immobilized Typhoid Mary, inserted an oxygen tube, then wrapped her up and shoved her in what looked like an oversized garment bag. “Hold on, sir. Davies, go get a luggage cart. If you can bring one in that already has luggage on it, so much the better. You three...” he pointed to the three men maneuvering Mary's bag. “You be careful with her. She went above and beyond. Treat her like it.” He turned his attention back to the cell phone. “Sorry about that, sir. You were saying?”

_“Actually, you were saying. So... broken furniture. Okay. You're at the Disneyland Resort, correct?”_

“Affirmative, sir.” Parkinson turned to the four agents remaining. He waved his finger in a circle, taking in the entire room, then mouthed the word 'sanitize'. They nodded and got to work. In ten minutes, the only sign that anything had happened here would be the persistent lack of a coffee table.

_“Okay, here's what you do. Go to whomever the duty manager is and have them call the California Vice President for Resorts at his home. Once you're connected, I want you to give the man the following phrase: Snakes are in the grass! Alas. Then just walk away. Disney has a very good record of assisting us. They do things for us, we look the other way when they want us to. It's a thing.”_

Parkinson couldn't keep the surprised look off his face, but at least he kept it out of his voice. “Yes sir. Snakes are in the grass! Alas. Got it. Anything you want us to do once we have Mary back to the base and in a hospital bed?”

_“Do we know what they were driving?”_

“Uh, that would be negative, sir. No idea.”

_“Too bad. All right. In that case, I'll let you know what I need once we reacquire the target. Assuming we reacquire the target. Have a good evening, Park. Give your little girl a kiss from her Uncle Hank, okay?”_

“Will do, sir. Talk to you later.” Parkinson put the cell phone in his pocket next to the one that had been issued to Mary. Like the first one, it was now useless.

**XxxxxxX**

Alex gave the CVS behind them a quick glance as she pulled the Mercedes into traffic. It was their fifth drug store. Hopefully, the girl behind the register wouldn't remember her face if someone came asking. Alex doubted anyone would, given that they picked this drug store at random, but she hoped for anonymity anyway. Their suitcases, holding enough clothing for a week at Disneyland, were in the trunk next to the duffel bag, their pillows, some folded blankets, their beach gear including a bag full of lotions and oils and a folded-up umbrella, their souvenirs, and their bag of shoes. The back seat held four beach towels, enough drug store junk food to feed the 8th Armored Division, and as many topical antibiotics and bandages as Alex thought she could buy at once without attracting attention.

In the passenger seat, Louise was slathering Neosporin on the cuts on her arms, then closing them with a steri-strip, then putting band-aids over them. And talking. To the unpracticed eye, it would look like Louise wasn't paying attention to what she was doing, but Alex got the feeling that Louise had been her own doctor on previous occasions.

“Do you think I did something wrong, talking on the woman's cell phone like that? I mean, he hung up on me. I didn't get any information other than she was named Mary. Oh, and she called that Gyrich dude. Why does that name sound familiar, Alex?”

“Because he's come after us before.” Alex spared Louise a glance. State Road 99 was coming up, and from there it was only a couple of miles to I-10. They'd be in Las Cruces by morning. “He's a government guy. Hardnosed spy type. Like James Bond, but even more of an asshole. Absolutely hard-nosed. All about God and country and willing to fuck anybody over if it protects the country. He's actually one of the good guys, but he's the kind of good guy who'll murder an entire elementary school if it means that the bad guys lose.”

“I don't think that counts as being a good guy.” Louise turned to reach into the back seat. She pulled a bottle of water and the Tylenol up front with her.

“Well, he's usually on the side of the good guys. He's just a fanatic.” Alex signaled the turn and took the right.

“Right. My dad always said fanatics were dangerous.” Louise shook a few pills out onto her hand and popped them into her mouth, followed by a few swallows of water.

“They are, Louise. They really are.” Alex reached over and gave her hand a squeeze.

“Okay.” Louise tried to get comfortable. They'd put two towels under her in case her back bled while they were driving. “I'm going to try and take a nap. If you start getting sleepy, wake me up, okay?”

“Sure. No problem. Before you drop off, though, could you hand me one of the bags of beef jerky and one of the cokes?” At Louise's look, Alex just smiled. “Just in case I need something to do with my hands.”

“Sure.” Louise fished the items in question out of the back seat, then folded herself against the car door. Mere moments later, Louise's breathing flattened out as sleep claimed her. Alex made sure she was in a stable position, then played with the stereo until she came across something called “Tom Petty's Buried Treasure.” The smoky tones of the singer, talking about the songs he personally chose to be played, and about his own memories as a performing musician, carried Alex out of Los Angeles and onto the interstate, headed east.

strong>XxxxxxX

Happy Hogan turned around once the two girls hit Interstate 10.

He hadn't witnessed the event that cause Alexandra and Louise Harris to abandon their suite at the Disneyland Resort, but he had seen the aftermath. Shortly after eight of the most obvious government spooks Hogan had ever seen entered the resort from the front, the two girls had rushed out of a side exit to their car like bats out of hell. Alexandra Harris carrying way too many bags to be moving that quickly. When they hit the car, the other girl loaded while Alexandra stood watch, like a freaking mother wolf standing over a cub. As far as Hogan could tell, her eyes had never left the hotel.

He'd followed the pair as they made five stops at five different chain drug stores. He didn't follow them in, but if he had to guess it was snack food and first aid supplies. Which made sense, seeing as how the Fulford girl had been hobbling just a little. And then the girls had run for the Interstate, heading east. The entire country was east of here, and all of it was accessible via Interstate 10. Made it impossible to guess where their ultimate destination was, but given the Interstate system, that genius product of the Eisenhower administration, it literally could be anywhere in the country.

Happy reached up and pushed the button on the bottom of the car's rear-view mirror. A slightly electronic voice said, _“Ready.”_

“Call Tony Stark.” He enunciated every syllable. Even after years of tinkering, the stupid system had problems understanding him.

_“Calling Tony Stark.”_ The voice said in clipped, artificial tones. It rang four times before being picked up.

_“Tony Stark.”_

“Boss, it’s me. You're never going to guess what happened to our girls tonight.” Hogan hit his turn signal and headed into the drive through of an In-N-Out. The girls might have eaten, but he sure as hell hadn't.

_“Oh God, what?”_

“Looks like someone objected to their having a honeymoon. I didn't see it, but I saw what happened next. A bunch of Men in Black-types showed up and the girls snuck out through the side door.” He leaned his head out the window. “Yeah, give me a double-double, fries, and a vanilla shake please.”

_“A double-double? Are you at the drive through?”_

“Yeah, look, Tony, I haven't had anything to eat since this bucket of popcorn I had at about 2:30 this afternoon.” He pulled up as close as possible to the car in front of him and waited his turn to pay. “Anyway, the girls stopped at a handful of drug stores then lit out for the territories on I-10.”

_“Drug stores?”_ There was quiet on the other end. _“Uh, let me guess. First aid supplies, soda, and junk food for the trip?”_

“And a couple of beach towels. They put them over the passenger seat. Not sure what it means, but it means something.” Hogan handed the girl a $10, and smiled at her as she handed back his change. “Maybe one of them was caught in the shower and they didn't want to get the seat wet.”

_“Right. It’s possible one of them is hurt, but not badly. Had to be the girlfriend. I can tell you from experience that Alexandra – she's calling herself Alex now, right? – Anyway, I can tell you she's like steel. Anything that could hurt her would have brought down the building.”_

“Makes sense. Anyway, I gave up on them once they hit the highway. I'm headed back to the apartment. Pepper'll be here in the morning and I miss her.” He gave another smile to the boy handing out the food. He put the bag on the passenger seat carefully, then proceeded to snake the fries out two or three at a time. He blew quickly, trying to cool the obviously fresh French fries while they were busily burning the inside of his mouth.”

_“Were you able to plant the tracker on their car?”_

“That I did. Hey wait, aren't you able to tell that?” Hogan grabbed a couple more fries.

_“It’s not that kind of tracker. I don't want just anyone with a radio tuned to the right frequency to be able to triangulate on them. It only responds to an active ping, and I'm not able to ping them where I am right now. I'll do it in the morning.”_

“Sounds good. Do we have any idea who sent the spooks?”

_“Of course, we do. Not that we can prove it, but yeah, sure, we know who sent them. Give you two guesses, but you're only going to need one.”_

“Gyrich. You know, sooner or later he's going to try this shit and it’s going to take a huge bite out of his ass.” Hogan rubbed at his eyes. He was still a good twenty minutes away from the apartment and a shower.

_“Of that I have no doubt.”_

“I'm going to put in some motoring. I've got a burger to eat, a shower, and a soft bed to crawl into.” Hogan almost pushed the disconnect, then stopped. “Oh, hey, speaking of soft beds, what the hell did you think you were doing with Pepper this morning?”

_“Ah. I take it she told you?”_

 

“You'd better damned believe she told me.” Hogan believed that it had been an accident. It hadn't been the first time an exhausted Tony Stark had accidentally crawled into bed with someone, after all. Hell, he'd done it to Hogan once. “You and I are going to have a long talk about my wife someday, Tony. I know we're all friends, and I know she's your ex, but for fuck's sake, there are rules.”

_“And you're totally justified in enforcing them. I'll talk to you later.”_

“Right. Talk to you in the morning.” Hogan turned down Hollywood. What a night it had been.

**XxxxxxX**

Louise woke up as Alex pulled into the hotel's parking lot. She blinked owlishly at her partner. “Where are we? What time is it, Alex?”

Alex glanced over and grinned before turning the car off. “Las Cruces, New Mexico. And it’s just about five in the morning. I'm going to get us a room. I figure we can hole up in a bed for a while. You know, change our clothes, shower. Find a decent restaurant that doesn't involve a drive-through window.” She climbed out of the car and Louise followed her.

“You sure it’s okay to stop?” Louis stretched like a cat as they walked to the hotel's entrance.

“Should be. Stark's man, whassisname, Hogan, said that they'd taken care of the bill, so whoever sent Stabby Woman won't know where to start looking.” Alex pulled her partner to her and gave her a hug. “I think Stark's covering for us.”

“Why would he do that?” Louise stretched again, yawning. Like most people, she could sleep in a car, but it was nowhere near as good as sleeping in a bed. She was still tired despite sleeping for almost six hours.

“No idea. But I think he is covering for us. It’s just a feeling.” She pulled open the door to the hotel and smiled at the man behind the desk. “Hey, we need a room. Preferably something on the ground floor? Non-smoking?”

**XxxxxxX**

Alex had waited until Louise was asleep again, snuggled under the thin blankets of the hotel bed. She left a note. _L - Had to run out real quick to get something. Stay in the room and I'll be back soon. Love you, A._ for Louise to find if she woke up. Alex had no idea how long this would take, but it might be a couple of hours. After leaving the note, and kissing Louise on the forehead, she'd quietly left the room and headed for a secluded spot behind the hotel's dumpster. Within seconds she was in orbit. Alex took a moment to appreciate how the curvature of the Earth looked from this vantage point, glanced appreciably at the moon, then dove toward the east coast of the United States. It took less than a minute. Before she registered on NORAD's systems, Alex was hanging in the air over Washington DC. And she listened.

She closed her eyes, concentrated, and listened. The cacophony of the assembled voices of Washington, waking to a partly-cloudy Sunday morning, hit her all at once. And one by one, she eliminated voices. Not this one. Not this one. Not this one. Not that one. She listened for certain words. For certain phrases. She listened.

It took close to ten minutes, but she had it.

_“Good morning, Mr. Gyrich. Did you sleep well?”_

_“Good morning, Betty. I did, thanks. How was your evening?”_

_“Me and Ronny spent the evening watching an old movie. Mister Smith Goes to Washington. I love Jimmy Stewart. Did you want me to get the paper for you, Mr. Gyrich?”_

_“No, I'll get it. You go ahead and put your things away. I'll be right back.”_

Alex moved, leaving a sonic boom to mark her last location. She came to an abrupt stop some hundred feet above a well-maintained ranch house on the outskirts of Washington, just on the shore of the Potomac River. When Henry Gyrich stepped onto his front porch to collect his daily newspaper, she was there waiting for him.

He didn't even have time to scream.

**XxxxxxX**

“Alex? Where'd you go?” Louise rubbed at her eyes.

Alex held up a bag full of Dunkin' Donuts and a tray with Styrofoam cups. “Breakfast of champions. I needed a quick sugar fix, and nothing provides the needed confection like jelly-filled delight. Oh, and coffee.”

“Coffee sounds good.” Louise sat up and stretched, inadvertently flashing her breasts at Alex. Alex dutifully watched every second of it. By the time Louise caught on, both thought it was all quite funny.

“I wrote a note, but I suppose you don't need it now.” Alex shrugged. She headed into the bathroom.

“Mmm. True.” Louise bit into a donut with one hand as grabbed for the TV remote with the other. She flipped through several channels. “Lots of Spanish channels. Church. Church. Boring. News. Wonder if they have anything on us.” Louise stopped it on CNN.

Alex stepped out and froze. “So, uh, what's going on?” She stared at the TV. A constant shot of the front of a house was being shown above a banner that read 'Homeland Security Head Kidnapped.'

“Nothing important. I was wondering if they had anything about us in the news, but it looks like we're clear.” Louise changed the channel and found _SpongeBob_. “There we go. Something light and entertaining.”

Alex came over and hugged her partner, which caused Louise to raise an eyebrow. “You okay, Alex? You're shaking. What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing really. Just, you know, lots of stress. I'm, well, I'm not quite fine, but I'm sure I will be.”

“Sure, I get it. I was like that for a while.” Louise grabbed another donut. “Hey, when we head out, I'll drive for a while. And I was thinking, we should, like, go by a bookstore. Drives are always shorter when you have something to read.”

“Sure, sounds good.” Alex turned to watch the cartoon, her mind still reeling from the emotional impact of what happened that morning.

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is Latin, and means "Nothing more to be said."


	20. Breakfast With Magneto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“It was my duty to shoot the enemy, and I don't regret it. My regrets are for the people I couldn't save. I'm not naive, and I do not romanticize war. The worst moments of my life have come as a SEAL. But I can stand before God with a clear conscience about doing my job.” – **Chris Kyle**_

**XxxxxxX**

_At first, the man struggled in her arms, not that it did him any good. He had flailed and kicked and punched, attempting to disrupt the hold she had on him. It was a fruitless effort, of course. He could no more break her grip on him than he could have ordered the tides to halt in their flow. He was only a human being, after all, and she was the physical embodiment of power. This world was filled with powerful people, but outside a handful of beings who could easily claim to be living, tangible gods, none could have matched her for physical ability._

_The man had red hair, almost the same shade as Willow Rosenberg's hair, though his was graying, and he had a round bald patch at the crown of his head. He was dressed in a navy-blue bathrobe, in a European style that was once called a 'lounging robe.' Under the bathrobe, he was wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of elastic-waist shorts, also navy blue. He was wearing matching blue fuzzy slippers, and wire-framed glasses._

_She remembered quite clearly that one of the slippers fell off his feet almost immediately and was left in front of his door. The other slippers fell off his feet somewhere over the North Atlantic Ocean. The first slipper would later be found by police officers investigating his disappearance. The second slipper would eventually be encountered by an oceanic white-tip shark, a member of the species_ Carcharhinus longimanus _and would be casually swallowed by it. He lost his glasses somewhere over Germany. Of course, by that point he was long-past being able to tell where he was and there wasn't a whole lot to see at that altitude anyway except the curve of the earth, the clouds and the growing border of black above them._

_She had grabbed him quickly enough and with enough force to snap the radius in his left forearm. Despite that, none of the noises he made were from pain. Rather, they were from anger, and involved demands to be released from her hold, demands that she explain what she was doing, demands that she explain where she was taking him, threats to her person or to her lover. Many of these demands were made simultaneously with his attempts to physically harm her. Again, they were useless._

_He stopped making the demands right around the same time that the two of them reached an altitude of about eight thousand feet. That was when the man's eyes got widened and he switched from threats to pleading. She found his pleas for mercy harder to ignore, but in the end, she bit down on her bottom lip and continued to climb into the sky. Eventually he stopped pleading and instead he began to scream. And then all sound began to get dim due to a thinness of the atmosphere. Instead of loud demands, he began wheezing. At just about twenty-two thousand feet, the man had ceased moving entirely, and frost had begun to collect around his face. By the time they passed forty-four thousand feet, she had shifted her grip until she was only holding one of his ankles, as if he were a garbage bag full of trash she was taking out to the dumpster. By this point, his other limbs, as well as his head, were bouncing along in her wake._

_She kept flying, though. She didn't stop until they reached a height of one hundred and seventeen million feet -- just over 23 miles, plus or minus a few dozen feet. She'd left the breathable air far behind and was working on just the gasses she'd trapped in her lungs the last time she'd taken a breath. But that was okay, she could stay like this for a few hours still and not be bothered._

_She pulled the man's body – by that point he'd been nothing but a corpse for at least twenty minutes – into position in front of her. She straightened his robe and retied it; the wind had nearly pulled the garment from his body. It wasn't that she cared, but it seemed disrespectful to give him this sort of burial without at least showing him the respect of being fully dressed. She pushed his mouth closed, gently lowered his eyelids, and folded his arms across his chest. And then, as hard as she could, she gave him a push, outward, away from planet Earth. In full accordance to Newton's Third Law of Motion, she fell toward the Earth as quickly as the man's body rushed outward away from it. But that was all right. She was going back anyway. Going back to her lover. Going back to her life. She turned on two axes and allowed the Earth's gravity to take her, floating downward for a moment. She luxuriated in the feeling of the atmosphere slowly getting thicker._

_It brought back vague memories of her first night on this world, when she was certain that she wasn't a she, but a he from another world. Now, several months later, everything was different. And that was okay._

_Her mind wrapped itself around the name 'Alexandra Lucretia Harris.' She still wasn't sure of the middle name, but it was growing on her. It was her name. Her name. Not a name borrowed from the two minds that had once been warring over her for supremacy, but the name of the third mind created from the melding of other two._

Alex Harris smiled to herself as her own bow shock caused multiple sonic booms to explode over the Atlantic. She was headed for a motel in New Mexico. She was headed toward Louise.

_Henry Peter Gyrich, or rather his corpse, had more than enough velocity to escape the Earth's gravity, but did not have enough to escape the Sun's. The body would eventually settle into a stable orbit. Unbeknownst to Alex Harris, the push she gave to Gyrich's body put it on a very long, very slow course that would see it impact with a Kuiper Belt object that would eventually be known as 238 Ekaterina, when it was finally discovered in 2303 by astronomers on Earth. The impact with 238 Ekaterina wouldn't occur until the middle of Gyrich's eleventh orbit around the Sun, some six million years after he died._

_This is what actually happened. But in the nightmare, that isn't what happened at all. The nightmare is different. Alex knows that the nightmare is different, because she's experienced the nightmare before, but can't seem to shake it, regardless of knowing that it wasn't real._

_Reality was bad enough to give her nightmares. The nightmares were worse._

_In the nightmare, when Alex gave Gyrich the push that would shove his corpse out of Earth orbit and into interplanetary space, he came alive. His eyes were black pits that leaked dark lines along his veins. His hair had gone from the graying red it normally was to a dark inky black. The body gripped Alex's wrist like iron. No matter how she pushed, or pulled, or tore at the hand, Gyrich wouldn't let her go. His mouth opened, revealing sharpened fangs. Alex screamed silently as the body pulled her closer, and the fangs pierced the flesh of her neck. In her mind, she heard a voice, a voice that carried millions of years of decay and corruption._

_“From beneath you, it devours!”_

**XxxxxxX**

From where she had been leaning against the door on the passenger side, Alex jerked upright. The paperback that had been lying upside down and open on her lap fell to the floorboard beneath Alex's feet. Alex bit back a scream. She gasped as the world around her started to make sense to her. The car. The highway. The passing traffic. The setting sun.

“You okay?” Louise was driving, so she could only make the occasional glance toward Alex on the passenger side. “Do you need me to find some place to stop?”

“No. No, I'm good.” Alex stretched and rubbed at her eyes without even thinking about it. “Where?”

“Just outside New Orleans. You've been asleep for about an hour.” Louise seemed to study Alex out of the corner of her eye. She made a face and turned back to driving.

“What? What's that look about?” Alex rubbed at her eyes again, then sat up in her seat.

“Did you have another nightmare?”

“It was nothing. Just a dream.” Alex turned and watched the suburbs of the Big Easy roll by. Even a year after the city had been drowned by Hurricane Katrina, it still looked like a bomb had hit it.

“Yeah, well, you've been having these 'just a dreams' since New Mexico. I can tell they're not nothing, Alex.” Louise made the same face, the one that said, 'I don't like what's going on.' “I can tell something's bothering you.”

“I – look, I really don't want to talk about it, okay?”

“Come on, Alex. I'm your wife. We're supposed to be sharing things, you know? Part of the deal.” She put a hand on Alex's. “Married people share.”

“Yeah, I know. I just don't feel like sharing right now.” Again, Alex stared at the passing wreckage that had once been a city. “Can you just leave me alone about it? Please? For now?”

Louise was silent, and without looking at her, Alex knew that she'd said the wrong thing. She turned to study Louise's face, and saw disappointment, anger, concern, love, more anger, and more disappointment dance across her partner's face in the space of a few seconds.

“Fine. Whatever you want.” Louise wasn't looking at her. Louise was, in fact, actively avoiding looking at her.

“Look, Louise,” Alex began, but Louise wasn't having any. She played with the buttons on the steering wheel, turning the car's satellite radio system to the 90s channel, and turning the music's volume up to just loud enough to cover any normally pitched conversation.

Alex stared, open-mouthed. “Oh, very mature. Very fucking mature.”

“You're the one who didn't want to talk, so we're not going to talk.”

“Fine,” Alex huffed. “Whatever you want.” She returned to staring out the window. Shortly, they crossed over Lake Pontchartrain, and were out of the New Orleans surroundings. Not talking, just each stewing in their own anger, while 90s music played in the background.

**XxxxxxX**

Alex had tried sleeping again, only to be chased out of it by the nightmare. As a Kryptonian, she only needed a couple of hours, far less than a human being needed, but the point was, she _needed_ it and wasn't getting it. She jerked her head up, suddenly aware that she'd nodded off. There was the usual disorientation caused by the awareness of missing time, but she hadn't dreamed. Alex shook the sleep off and looked around at where they were. No clues as to their current location jumped out at her other than it was dark now, and they were no longer on Interstate 10. The dashboard clock said it was just after 8 pm. They hadn't talked in nearly three hours. Every time Alex tried to start up a conversation, Louise would either ignore her or only reply in single words.

“Where are we?” Alex studied Louise as the other woman drove. Then she sighed. “How are you doing?”

Louise stared into the darkness, not answering, and for a while Alex was convinced that she was being given the silent treatment. Louise glanced at her, shook her head, and then sighed. “This is Pensacola. You slept right through Mobile. Missed a cool looking ship that was – whatcha call it – tied up? Moored that's it. It was moored in a bay right near the interstate. The U.S.S. Alabama battleship. Also, missed signs for about half a dozen Indian casinos.”

Louise gave Alex another glance, then brought her eyes back to the road. She was silent for a while before finally saying, “As for how I'm doing. Well, I'm tired, and I'm hungry and I'm scared and I'm pissed off. I'm a lot of things, Alex. I'm a lot of things right now, and you are the cause of some of them. We need to get some gas, and we need to talk, and we need to get something to eat, and I don't know about you, but I need to pee. I figured we could combine stops.”

“That's fine.” Alex turned to stare out of the window. She heard the click of the turn signal as Louise turned into the parking lot of a Waffle House. Louise stopped the car in the space right in front of the door, put it in park, and turned off the engine. They sat there, Louise staring at the restaurant's entrance, Alex staring at Louise.

“How are you doing?” Louise asked.

“Tired. Sad. Worried because I know that I've pissed you off and made you scared. Trying to figure out what to do and what to say to fix this, 'cause I know I pissed you off and made you scared.”

“Okay.” It was Louise's only response. Alex listened as Louise took a deep, deep breath. It was a sound she heard nearly every second of every day, the sound of air rushing in and out of people's lungs. It was a deeper, more fascinating sound than most of the sounds Alex constantly heard. Much more fascinating than the background hum of electricity, or the sound of heartbeats, or the metallic clicks of engines, or even the constant whoosh-whoosh of blood-flow. For the most part, Alex ignored these constant background sounds, but she never didn't pay attention to Louise breathing.

“Come on, let's go. I really do have to pee.” Alex followed Louise out of the car. Her partner pushed the lock button on the key fob and handed it to her. “You're driving next.”

Alex nodded. “Sure thing. Um. I figured we were going to hit a drive through and just power our way down the road. Are we eating actually eating here?” Alex had never actually been inside a Waffle House, but from what she understood, it was the type of place that put the 'grease' in the phrase 'greasy spoon'.

Louise looked at her as if she had asked if Louise wanted to be set on fire. “You're kidding, right? Okay, new rule. No eating drippy messy shit in the Benz. And after non-drippy food is eaten in there, we take the time to vacuum it out. You're not messing up my car. When we get you your own car, you can eat all the drippy messy shit you want in it. Okay?”

“Okay. We're eating here. Gotcha.” Alex looked at the 'Please Wait Here to Be Seated' sign. “You want me to order while you're in the ladies?”

“Nah, I'll be right out. Won't take long. Besides, I have no idea what I want yet.” Louise gave her a quick kiss and cupped Alex's cheek. “Cheer up. You don't have to look like someone shot your puppy. I'm not divorcing you. I'm just a little pissed off.”

Alex shook her head, watching as Louise headed for the lady’s room.

**XxxxxxX**

Alex dabbled with her food. She really wasn't hungry; instead Alex was waiting for Louise to decide when they'd start talking. Alex watched Louise eat her turkey club; occasionally, she'd take a bite out of her cheeseburger. Eventually, Louise was done with her sandwich and had cleared out half of the French fries – Alex's own were still untouched. Alex had sat in the silence Louise had demanded the whole time, occasionally staring at the televisions hanging above their heads. The usual choice of cable news or some sporting event – looked like a rodeo, of all things – was presented. She was watching a teenaged girl ride a horse through a course made of overturned oil drums, and not paying attention.

“Are you listening, Alex?”

She snapped her attention back to Louise. “What? Sorry, no, I was sort of out of it. I'm sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked you if this, this whatever it is that has you not talking to me about what's bothering you has to do with the other night.”

“The other night?”

“Yeah, in Las Cruces.” Louise popped another couple of fries into her mouth. “I got up to go to the bathroom and you were gone. It didn't bother me then, because I know you don't need as much sleep as I do, and it’s not the first time I've woke up and you were doing something else. But you were gone a long time. I just sort of shrugged it off at the time and went back to sleep, but now I'm worried. About you.”

Alex couldn't meet Louise's eye. She took a slow glance around the restaurant. “Look, can we get back on the road? I don't want to have this conversation here.”

Louise stared at her for a long moment. “Fine. We can wait to talk until we get to the hotel room.”

“We're getting a room?” Alex really had thought the plan was to get to Tallahassee, at least, before stopping.

“Yeah. I'm tired, and I don't want to be in the car any more. What I want is a bed and a shower and a long talk with you followed by some quality cuddle time. And I figure this place –” Louise pointed out the window to the Econo-Lodge in whose parking lot the Waffle House had been constructed. “– is as good as any. I just want a shower and a bed and for you to tell me what's going on, okay?” Alex nodded. It wasn't a very enthusiastic nod. Louise reached out, captured one of Alex's hands, and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Now eat your burger. Even you need to eat every occasionally.”

“Louise –”

“Nope. Eat your burger. Emotionally wrenching discussion comes later.” Louise reached across the table and gave Alex's hand a squeeze. “Look, I'm not pissed off anymore. What I am is in love with you and worried about you, okay? This is me, being concerned.”

Alex opened her mouth to say something, but before she could Louise was glaring over her shoulder. “You got something you want to say to us, mister?” Alex turned in her seat. At the counter an older man in a flannel shirt sat, staring at the two of them. His expression was one of someone who just found a turd floating in his corn flakes. “Well?” Louise prompted.

The man seemed to sniff and as he turned away, he said, “Ain't me got sumpen to say to ya. It's God.”

“Which god?”

That caused the man's attention to move from Louise to Alex. “What'chu say?”

“I asked to which god were you referring when you said that god had, uh, 'sumpen' to say to us.'” Alex shrugged. “Also, just why do you think a god would want to talk to us?”

“God don't like queers.” The man rolled a hateful eyeball at them. “And suren you two are queers.”

“Well, yeah.” Alex turned to face the man, suddenly interested. “We are. But you still haven't told us which god you're talking about.”

“God almighty! The Creator!” The man seemed offended that there was a question. “That god!”

“I can name at least fourteen separate religions that name their gods as the creator of the universe. Which one do you mean?”

“There's only one God!” The man was actively getting upset. People were turning their heads to watch the argument.

“I can name eleven religions that claim their god is the only god.”

The man stood. “You stupid bitch!”

“Hey now! Watch it!” That from another man sitting nearby.

The angry man ignored him. “There's only one God! The God of Abraham! The God of the Bible.”

Alex smirked at the man. “Which Bible? I can name at least five translations that are different enough from the original Aramaic scrolls to be considered separate documents entirely.” That angered the man enough that he took a step toward Alex. But the manager was there suddenly. He got between the angry man and the girls.

“Charlie, sit down and shut up. You're bothering people.” He turned toward Alex and Louise. “And if you ladies are finished, I'd appreciate It if you went about your way now.”

Louise looked him up and down. “You have a problem with queer girls, too?”

The manager shook his head. “No ma'am. Don't much give it any thought. But I do have a problem with people who provoke fights in my dining room, and that's just what the two of you did. Charlie here was being an ass, but you were the one who started goading him. I appreciate your business and all, but I want you out of here, now.” The man nodded over toward the door, where a deputy with the Escambia County Sheriff's Department stood. The Deputy, who had just walked in, looked like he wasn't sure what was going on.

“Okay. No problem.” Alex pulled Louise by the elbow. “Come on, baby, let's get out of here before there's any trouble, okay?” Louise glared at the manager for a second, but nodded and kept walking. The deputy followed them to the car.

“Look, girls, I'm sorry about that. I only saw the end of that and I'd like to apologize to you. Charlie's an asshole and he shouldn't have been yelling at you like that.” He took his campaign hat off and rubbed the top of his head for a moment. “You girls drivin' on, or are you lookin' for a place to stay? 'Cause if you're planning on stoppin', I wouldn't recommend this fleabag. I'd go down to the next exit and stop at the Holiday Inn. Much nicer place.”

Alex nodded. “Thank you, sir. Come on, Louise.” She opened the car door. “Come on, baby.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Louise climbed into the car. She rolled down the window. “Thanks for being nice about that, deputy. You're a nice guy.”

“You're welcome, miss. Like I said, next exit.”

**XxxxxxX**

Alex semi-collapsed onto the bed. She really wasn't looking forward to this, but knew it had to happen. Her reticence was bugging the hell out of Louise, and that was only to be expected. They'd been so open with each other about everything. As Louise dragged the last of the bags into the hotel room, Alex studied the room. The deputy was probably right. This looked a lot better than the Econo-Lodge had, though she could tell she was going to hate the blankets on these beds already. Given what she was about to talk to Louise about, there was every chance she'd have one of the beds to herself. That thought didn't cause major happy-feelings to run through her mind.

The sound of the door locks being set brought Alex's attention back to Louise. Her partner sat down next to the small circular table that seemed to inhabit every Holiday Inn on the planet. Alex shifted guiltily as Louise seemed to study her; she was tapping the fingers of one hand on the table while the other twisted a lock of hair. Finally, Louise spoke. “Okay, I'm still sort of pissed but it’s because of the homophobic jackass and now you. And even that is cooling off. I do want to talk to you though, so I hope you don't think you're just going to sit there quiet while I rant at you. Okay?”

Alex just shrugged.

“No, that's not good enough.” Louise sighed. “Look, I want you to say it. We're going to talk, and you're going to tell me what the fuck is bothering you so much that you spent the last twenty hours or so moping and not telling me what was bothering you. This is not how you have a happy relationship, and I want a happy relationship. So, we're going to talk, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Alex started to just blurt it out, but thought better of it.

“I was right, though, it’s about the other night in Las Cruces. You went out that night. I woke up, you were gone, I went to back to bed and then woke up again, and you were just coming back to the room with donuts. It was that night, right?”

“Yeah, it was that night. Or that morning, anyway.”

“Let me guess, you cuddled up to me and waited for me to be asleep, then got up, got dressed, and snuck out.” Louise tapped her fingers on the tabletop again.

Alex just nodded and didn't say anything else. _If she keeps doing that,_ Alex thought to herself, _she's going to ruin the manicure._ That caused her to smile, weakly. The first thing Louise had spent any of the money on was a manicure. She had said she had heard about them and had always wanted one.

“Alex, don't zone out.” That caused Alex to snap her eyes back to Louise's face. Louise maneuvered her head, moving it side to side to make sure they were looking eye to eye. “Okay. What were you doing while you were gone? I know you don't do drugs, so I know you weren't seeing a dealer. We're carrying around a gym bag filled with fat stacks of money, and if that fails we have our bank cards, so I don't think you stole anything. We'd just pulled into town – Alex, do you know anybody in Las Cruces? Old girlfriend, maybe?”

“No, nothing like that. I just – I took care of something.”

“What did you take care of?” Louise leaned forward and snagged one of Alex's legs. She pulled gently, and Alex complied and put her foot in Louise's lap; within moments Louise had Alex's sneaker and sock off. A foot-rub followed. Alex looked at Louise's face and studied the gentle smile. “Come on, Alex, what did you take care of? It had to be something you didn't want me to know about. Or you thought I'd hate you for doing. And it’s obviously something you're not too proud of doing.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah.” She consciously relaxed the muscles in her foot. If she didn't, Louise would find giving her the massage to be like trying to mold cement with her bare hands.

“What was it?”

Nothing.

“Alex, what was it?”

Nothing. Just a shrug.

“Alex, I swear if you make me ask you again –”

“I killed him.” It was just a whisper, but it was enough to make Louise stop the massage for a couple of seconds.

“What was that?”

“You heard me!” Not a whisper. Not a yell. Just a statement. “I killed him.”

“You killed someone?” Alex looked away, but Louise moved her head again to keep in Alex's sight line. “Who? Who did you kill?” Alex stared into Louise's eyes and suddenly was sure. Louise knew what she'd done, and had in fact known since shortly after the news of Gyrich’s disappearance broke on the television. “Come on, baby. Tell me. It'll do you good to get it out.” Louise continued her gentle press against the pads of Alex's foot. It was relaxing.

“Gyrich. I killed Gyrich because he sent that woman.” Alex wasn't sure when she started crying. “He put you in danger. He wasn't leaving us alone. So, I took care of him. I had to do something. We can't live in fear all the time, waiting for the next cop or superhero or supervillain even to jump out of the bushes. I can't take it anymore. I've got to keep you safe which means I can't risk sleeping too long but I can't stay awake all the time. I figured sometimes you must remove the source of the threat, not just the threat. Please, tell me you understand. Please!”

“I do, Alex. I do understand. You did what you thought you had to.” Louise sighed. “Just like Bullseye and that Chinese Man, and the man in the black spider suit.”

“No, that was different. That was a fight.” Alex shuddered, her breath was coming in gasps. “It happened in a fight. I just waited for Gyrich to stick his head out of the door and grabbed him. He didn't have a chance against me.”

“Bullseye and the other two didn't have a chance against you either, 'Lex. You did what you had to.” Louise moved to take Alex to her shoulder. “Go ahead and let it out. I'm not ashamed of you. I don't hate you. I still love you and I love that you protect me. I know how stressful it is, being on guard all the time. Cry if you need to.”

Which is exactly what Alex did.

“I'm a killer, Louise. I'm a murderer.”

“No, you're not. It's different. It’s like – it’s like you're a cop who must shoot a burglar. Or a soldier. You had to do it.”

“But – but –”

“I forgive you, Alex. I forgive you.”

Alex nodded into Louise's shoulder and cried.

**XxxxxxX**

Alex awoke slowly. It took her a moment to realize she was still dressed, on top of the covers of the bed. The pillow was damp, but Alex couldn't tell if it was from drool or tears. Maybe both. She hadn't planned on falling asleep, but emotional exhaustion did that. She hadn't had the dream. It was the first time since New Mexico that she hadn't had the dream.

As Alex sat up, Louise clicked off the television. “You feeling any better?” Her partner ran her hand through Alex's hair. “I think you need more sleep, but that was a good start. You were asleep for about two hours.”

“Two hours?” Alex stretched. “What time is it?”

“Just around midnight. C'mon.” Louise extended a hand and tugged to get Alex to stand. “Let's get you cleaned up, and then we'll get you back to bed, okay?” Alex nodded. She started to pull her t-shirt over her head, but Louise slapped at her hands. “I'll do that. You just cooperate.” Alex nodded again. Louise drew the garment up and off Alex's body gently and slowly, then stepped in close. She wrapped her arms around Alex, her hands coming to rest in the center of Alex's back. Alex's bra abruptly lost tension, and Louise stepped back, pulling the brassiere away as she moved.

“Gotta tell you, sweetheart, that sight never gets old.” Louise's hands traced their way across Alex's shoulders, then down her sides. She stepped forward and kissed Alex, one hand rising to cup a breast. Again, Louise stepped back, keeping her eyes locked on Alex's. She did not move her hand except to rub her thumb across Alex's nipple. It hardened under the sensation, and Louise smirked.

Alex returned the smirk, bringing up her own hand to fondle Louise through her shirt. And then, to her own surprise, she yawned. Not a simple, basic yawn, but the kind of yawn that lasts for hours and always includes a stretch. And when it was over, Louise was still smirking.

“Yeah, that's what I thought. Go get a shower. We can play tomorrow night. Tonight's for resting.” Alex noticed that Louise didn't sound very disappointed, as if she had expected this to happen.

“Are you going to be awake when I get out?” Alex asked as she yawned again.

“I think so. Go on.” Louise gave Alex a kiss on the nose, then pushed the larger girl toward the bathroom. At the door, Alex looked back, watching Louise fiddle with the room's air conditioner. She smiled, then closed the door behind her to start her shower.

**XxxxxxX**

Sunlight peeking around the edges of the room's heavy curtains finally woke Alex. She lifted her head, momentarily confused by her surroundings. There was a creepy quality about hotel rooms that Alex never got over, that made waking up in one a confusing ordeal. She dropped her head to the pillow and closed her eyes again, but still that stray beam of sunlight kept her awake. She lay there with her eyes closed. Her arms were wrapped around Louise, who was using Alex's shoulder as a pillow. Their legs were intertwined, and Louise's right arm was lying across Alex's stomach. She didn't want to think, but being awake her mind started moving. She realized, for example, that it wasn't the light of the sunbeam that had woke her, but rather the energizing effect it was having on her skin. She realized that while Louise's breathing was horribly out of synch with her own, their heartbeats were in tandem. It was a neat and somewhat romantic thing, and for a while she just lay there, listening to it. The low, thu-thump of their hearts.

She concentrated and expanded the range of her hearing. In the room, just above them, two kids were entreating Mommy about donuts while Daddy complained about not being able to find the socks he was wearing the night before. From the sounds Alex could hear coming from the room on their right a couple was having energetic sex in the shower. And it was good sex, too, now that she was paying attention to what the woman was saying to the man. Alex smirked as she realized that whatever else was going on, the sex was the result of a business transaction. She could hear a couple of people speaking Japanese walking past their door; the wheels on their luggage squeaked as it moved by. Traffic was beginning to pick up on the surface roads nearby, and the Interstate through Pensacola was already busy.

Alex felt Louise begin to stir. The other girl rolled out of her arms and lay on her side, facing the bathroom for a moment. Alex kept her eyes closed, still just trying to relax. She felt the sensation of weight on the bed shift, and figured Louise had climbed out of bed. “Alex?” The sound of Louise's sleep-tinged voice was like that of an air-raid siren. Alex winced and cranked her hearing back down to normal range. “C'mon, Alex, we need to wake up.”

“I'm awake. I'm awake.” Alex opened her eyes. Louise was standing over her, smiling. “Hey there, beautiful.”

“Hey yourself. You going to want to hit the shower again, or are you okay?”

Alex shook her head. “No, I'm good. You go ahead.” She sat up in bed and watched as Louise stripped as she moved. It was a fun show.

She yawned and stretched, then started gathering dirty clothes. Those got shoved into the white garbage back tucked into one end of the suitcase. As far as clean clothes, Alex chose a pair of faded denim jeans and a blue t-shirt that read “Dear Math, I'm not a psychologist. Solve your own problems” in bright yellow letters. Teeth brushing and toiletry gathering followed, and once everything was packed except Louise's chosen clothing, she plopped herself down in front of the television. It didn't take her long to find something watchable. In Alex's opinion, the only people who couldn't find _The Beverly Hillbillies_ watchable were uncouth barbarians.

**XxxxxxX**

As a gift to Louise, Alex carried the three bags to the car while her partner turned in the room key. As Alex neared the car, she realized that this was probably a lucky choice. There were three men and a woman standing near, or even leaning on, the Mercedes.

“Okay, what's going on?” Alex asked. She never took her eyes off the one member of the four she recognized. Seven feet tall, muscled like a professional wrestler. Hairy to beat the band. Visible fangs and cat-like eyes. It was Victor Creed. Sabretooth. “Would you mind stepping aside so I can put these away?” The other three did just that. Sabretooth lingered just long enough to send the message that he was moving because he wanted to, and not because he thought she could move him. “Thank you.”

Alex deposited the bags in the trunk and closed it. She leaned against the back of the car and looked the four over. She honestly could not place three of them. No idea who they were. But if they were in Sabretooth's company, they were likely bad guys, and mutants to boot.

“So… What's the what? You're not here to fight or you would have jumped in already. Puddy Tat here --” Alex waved toward Sabretooth, who sneered at her in return, “—isn’t usually the one sent in for diplomacy. I ask again: what do you want?” Sabretooth leaned over her in an obvious attempt at a dominance game and sniffed at the air around her. He opened his mouth to no doubt say something he thought was intimidating, but Alex interrupted him. “Oh please. Big guy, you got nothing I need to ever be afraid of, so let's stop playing and just let me know what you want.”

“Heh. You got balls, lady. I like that. The boss wants to –” Sabretooth’s words trailed away as Louise approached. The big man sniffed the air again and started to turn towards her. Alex stood up from her lean and put a hand on Sabretooth's arm, just above his elbow. She casually, but inexorably, pulled downward until he was bent over and his head was even with hers. She could feel him straining against her grip, but his efforts were useless, of course.

“One thing, Creed. You treat her –” Alex leaned her head toward Louise “– with as much respect as a bastard like you is capable of. I hear you call her ‘bitch,’ I hear you make some sort of joke that implies you want to fuck her, you so much as look at her in a way that makes her feel at all uncomfortable, and I will rip your arms off and beat you to death with them.” Alex looked to the other three, all of whom now looked terrified. “Goes for the rest of you. Louise, honey? Go ahead and get in the car.”

Without pausing, and without so much as glancing at Sabretooth, Louise stepped past the four and climbed in. She locked the car behind her. Alex kept an eye on her before turning back to Sabretooth, who was still trying fruitlessly to stand up. His face betrayed how much pain he was in.

“Okay, Victor, you were saying?” She kept her grip on his arm, thereby keeping him off balance.

“The boss. The boss wants to talk to you.”

“The boss?” Alex squeezed his arm, just a little, and the big man winced. “Your boss?”

“Yeah, my boss. Magneto.”

“Magneto wants to talk to me?” Alex was confused. “Why would Magneto want to talk to me? How the fuck did Magneto even know where I was?”

“Uh –” it was one of the other man, the one who looked vaguely Asian, or maybe Central American. “There's a tracker on your car. He was looking for you in LA and could feel the signal, so he had us following you.” At Alex's scowl, the man held his hands up. “Just following. He said he wanted to talk. Just talk!”

Alex thought about it for a minute, then nodded. “Okay, fine. We'll talk to him, and then we're walking away. And if one of you so much as even hints that you'll try and stop either of us from leaving, or if anyone so much as tosses Louise an ugly look, I'll break every bone in the lower half of your body.” She gave Sabretooth another squeeze. “Goes double for you, big man. You leave her alone or I'll hurt you so bad you'll be months getting back in shape, healing factor or no. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, yeah! Fuck, stop! I understand!”

She released Sabretooth's arm. “Good. Now, where is he?”

“The boss is at this restaurant down the road, waiting. Figured you might want to eat during your business meeting,” the Asian man explained.

“Okay. Fine. Lead on.” Alex moved to the driver's side.

“Uh, you're supposed to, um, you know, go with us. In our car.” It was the woman this time.

Alex laughed at that. “Yeah, that's so not happening. I said I'll talk to him. You either believe me or not. Either way, I'm taking my car, and my girlfriend is staying where I can see her. It’s not that I don't trust you, fine upstanding citizens, but I don't trust you.” Alex tapped on the glass and was rewarded with the sound of the car's locks releasing. “I'll drive, you lead.”

Louise was quiet until Alex was in the car and the engine was running. “What's going on? Who are our new friends?”

“The big guy is Sabretooth. He's a mutant hit man. The other three I don't know. They work for Magneto.” She backed out of the parking space and waited for them to climb into their own vehicle, a huge SUV.

“Magneto? Wait, you mean _Magneto_ , Magneto? The mutant terrorist Magneto?”

“That would be the one, yeah. He apparently wants to meet with me.” Alex pulled out into traffic behind the larger vehicle. She followed closely enough to keep other cars from getting between them.

“And why are we meeting Magneto? How did Magneto even find us?”

“I asked that. Apparently, we've got a tracker on the car. As for why I agreed to meet him,” Alex shrugged. “On the one hand, I think it would be cool to meet the guy. He is, after all, Magneto. I don't think he's just going to try and kill us.”

“And on the other hand?” Louise was rubbing her temples.

“We have a tracker on our car. I'm going to ask him to find it for us and remove it.”

“Right. And he's just going to help us out like that?”

“Hey, you never know.” The SVU was pulling into the front of a Bob Evans. “If I ask nicely, you know? I mean, he's a terrorist, sure, but from what I hear, he's not actually mean about it. I've heard him described as a gentleman more than once.”

**XxxxxxX**

Just outside the door, Alex stopped. Just simply stopped. The four escorts looked at each other, obviously wondering what to do if Alex decided to not go through with the meeting. Louise was also looking confused.

“What's the matter, sweetheart? You okay?”

“Oh, sure. I just had this surreal moment where I realized I'm about to meet a guy who is probably the second or third most powerful mutant on the planet in a franchise location of a 'home cuisine' restaurant chain.” Alex shook her head again and looked up at the sign. “I mean, seriously? Bob Evans? Magneto wants to meet me at a Bob Evans?”

“The boss felt you might be more comfortable in a public area.” The lone woman among Magneto's people spoke slowly, as if she was afraid of offending and was thus choosing her words carefully. “We know you guys stopped at places like this in Texas, and, you know, he felt that the bystanders would give him an extra layer of protection should you decide to, um, well, get hostile.”

“Wait, Magneto's taking precautions against my getting hostile? He's _afraid_ of me?” Alex was shocked.

“Hey, you took down all the Avengers single-handedly. What do you expect?”

“I dunno – he's _Magneto_ for crying out loud. I don't even know why he wants to talk to me.” Alex looked at the four of them. Even Sabretooth was looking uncomfortable. “All right, spit it out.”

“Um. He pulled the short straw. Otherwise you'd be talking to Emma Frost.” Sabretooth chuckled. “I doubt she would've had you meet at a Bob Evans. Me? I like this place. They got great omelets. She'd think it’s too lowbrow.”

“Right. Okay, that sort of makes sense, I guess.” Alex looked at the door again. “Let's get this over with.”

Alex took a deep breath, and opened the door. Like all restaurants did, the combined smell of the cooking food made her hungry. It was like a reflex. She had a quick word with the seater, and the six of them were quickly shown to their tables. Tables. A large round table was set for five people, while a rather majestic looking white haired man sat at a table for two. He was watching Alex expectantly.

“I'm sorry,” Alex stopped the seater. “But we're going to have to drag another table close. We need to have three people at one, and four at the other, not five and two. Okay? Thanks.” Alex motioned to the goons, who had clearly overheard her. She watched Magneto's expression sour as his own people altered his plans on her behalf. Shortly, there was extra space, and Alex sat Louise next to her.

She smiled as she held her hand out to the supervillain. “Good morning. Alexandra Harris. This is my partner, Louise Harris. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lehnsherr. Or, um, are you using still using Erik Magnus?”

“Lehnsherr is fine, though it does make me wonder where you've heard that name.” Alex just shrugged as Magneto shook her hand gently, then turned to Louise. “Nice to meet you, Madame. I'd hoped to have our little talk private, but if you insist.”

“I do.” Alex wasn't curt, but she put enough emphasis on it to make her wishes known. “So, you called the meeting. And over breakfast, which was a brilliant idea, as neither of us have had the chance yet.” Alex opened the menu, nodding to Louise to do the same. After a few seconds, Magneto had opened his.

They took a few minutes to decide, and then closed their menus. “So, what can I do for you, Mr. Lehnsherr?”

Magneto seemed to be gathering his thoughts. “It should be no surprise to you that your sudden appearance out of nowhere, and your actions in resisting this silly registration law, not to mention your utter defeat of SHIELD and the Avengers, has brought you to the attention of persons, like myself, who are, shall we say, pursuing a particular social agenda.”

“I can buy that, yes. I've tried to keep myself off the governments radar, but they always seem to find me.”

“Yes, that is how it works. As I was saying, certain interested parties were wondering about your exact stance on the issue. We know, for example, though the underground, that not only are you a member of our community, let us say, but that so is your partner. You are obviously willing to oppose tyranny and oppression, and have already demonstrated –”

Alex held a hand up and Magneto immediately stopped speaking. She sat there silent, and it was clear that he was puzzled, until the waitress suddenly appeared and asked for orders. When the woman had gone, Alex motioned him to continue.

“You've demonstrated a willingness to apply force in pursuit of this opposition.”

“I think he wants you to join up, Alex.” Louise had been listening to the rather long-winded speech with interest.

“Yeah, that's what I'm getting, too.” She looked at Magneto through narrowing eyes. “I wonder, do you want me for a one-time gig, or do you want me to hang out at the clubhouse with the rest of the Mouseketeers?”

“I'm sure whatever you'd like would be fine.” This was Magneto, trying to be ingratiating.

“Uh-huh.” Alex sat back in her seat. “And what sort of role do you foresee me undertaking, should I be willing to join your theater troupe?”

“Theater troupe,” he repeated, amused. “I like that. Well, Ms. Harris, I am sure that, given your obvious talents, your role would be that of leading lady. I would have thought that was obvious.”

“Oh, it was. I just wanted confirmation.” Plates of food began arriving, and once again the conversation was delayed. When the waitress had left once again, Alex forked a piece of egg and chewed, slowly. It was just slightly overcooked.

“There is one small problem.” Alex took a sip of her orange juice. “I'm not actually a part of the theater community, if you don't mind me extending the metaphor.”

Alex watched as Magneto's jaw dropped open. The potato on the end of his fork fell off and back into his plate. “You mean, you're _not_ a mutant?” The last word was almost hissed.

“Nope.” Louise was shaking her head. “I'm the mutant. She's not.”

Magneto looked from Alex to Louise and back. “But I've seen a copy of your SHIELD file. You're listed as a mutant by –”

“Yes, I'm sure I am, but I'm not.” Alex leaned in, motioning him closer. “I'm not even from this planet!” she whispered.

“Not from –.” Magneto sat back, his eyes wide. “Wait. Are you an Asgardian? Or one of the Eternals?”

“Oh hey! I didn't think of the Eternals. I should have pretended to be one of them.” Alex grinned at the man across the table. “But no. I'm a garden variety extraterrestrial from the planet Krypton. In fact, by Kryptonian standards, I'm a child barely out of diapers.”

“You mean there is an entire planet of people as powerful as you?”

“Three, actually. Krypton, our home planet, as well as Argo and Daxam, two colony worlds.” Alex continued eating her breakfast. “I am, however, the only Kryptonian on Earth.”

Magneto sighed, apparently in relief. “Wait, you said your home planet was called 'Krypton'? Like the element? The noble gas?”

“Yeah, that's one of the fantastic coincidences I keep finding during my travels on this planet. I mean not only did you name one of the periodic elements using a word that sounds a great deal like my own planet's name, there are similarities between certain letters in our most common alphabet and the Terran language known as Hebrew, you have a plant species that's remarkably identical to our own _buffees_ – you call them roses.” Alex shrugged. She was making it all up off the top of her head, and didn't know how much she could get away with. _Think, think, think. Got it..._ “Oh, and you also have breen. And that's a really weird one, because Krypton has encountered dozens of alien species in the thousand years we've been an interstellar species, and they all have breen. Even yours.”

“What is breen?”

“It’s a food, an entree dish to be eaten, made of meat balls in a sauce. You call yours 'Swedish Meatballs', but I assure you, it’s all the same breen.” Alex gave Magneto a wide smile.

“Swedish meatballs.”

“Yes.” Alex forked the last of her breakfast. She casually noted that Louise was done with hers, too. “Now, if you'll excuse us, we must be going if we want to get to Orlando by nightfall.” Florida was a thin state, but it was also a very long state; in driving from Pensacola to Orlando they would end up covering nearly a thousand miles, all within Florida. “But thanks for the offer, and thanks for breakfast. And it was a thrill meeting you, really.”

That shook Magneto out of his reverie. “What? Oh – um, yes. Certainly. Drive safe.” The supervillain continued to sit there, stunned. His henchmen didn't say a word. They just finished their breakfasts.

“Oh, almost forgot. I was hoping you could do us a favor.” At the sound of Alex's voice, Magneto looked up.

“What favor would that be?”

“Sabretooth told us that there's a tracker planted on our car. Do you know by whom it was placed?”

Magneto shook his head. “No, Ms. Harris. I merely detected the signal.”

“Oh. Okay. Would you mind taking it off our car, or at least letting me know where it is so I can do it?”

“Ah,” Magneto looked to the henchmen, who all shrugged at him. “I suppose I could.” He turned to the other table. “If she asks, tell her I had to get something from the vehicle. Go ahead and pay the bill.”

Magneto followed the girls out. When he reached the Mercedes, he ran a hand over one side, then the other. “Ah. It’s on the gas tank.” He crouched down behind the vehicle and gave a little wave. A metallic disk about two inches across flew into his hand. He gave it to Alex. “There you are. Surprisingly, its magnetic.”

“That's perfect.” Alex walked across the parking lot and bent down to inspect the undercarriage of an RV parked nearby. She casually flipped the thing underneath, so it stuck to the buses axle.

“Mr. Lehnsherr, once again thank you for breakfast. It has truly been an honor to meet you. Don't get in too much trouble.” She shook his hand again and followed Louise's to the car.

“I have no idea what just happened,” Magneto said to himself as he watched the two girls leave. “Huh. Swedish meatballs.”

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea that all inhabited planets in the galaxy separately develop the concept and recipe for Swedish meatballs comes from the mind of writer J. Michael Straczynski, and was first expressed in his television show, _Babylon 5_. I couldn't resist throwing it in.


	21. Definitely Miami...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“The only thing that Florida's got over California is that your Disney kicks the shit out of our Disney. Oh, and your beaches. You got much better beaches than we do. And the seafood is better there. And the fishing. Okay, shit. I admit it. There's a bunch of things that Florida's got over California. Next time you come out here to hang out, I'll take you to see the Lakers. They kick the shit out of the Magic anyway.” – **Freddie Prinze Jr.** , in conversation with the author over Skype, 9/17/2014_

**XxxxxxX**

It is a little-known fact that at 603 miles from north to south, Florida is the third longest state in the fifty United States, surpassed only by Alaska (1420 miles) and California (800 miles). Florida’s length is more than that of Arizona (549 miles), New Mexico (537 miles) and Nevada (522 miles), its next three competitors. The fact that the Sunshine State averages only 100 miles across, on the other hand, is what keeps it from being among the largest states in total land area. Given the length of the state, and assuming that the driver is following speed limit laws, and is using a route that includes the various Interstate Highways, of which in Florida there are thirteen (including eleven that never leave the state at all, and thus qualify as ‘Interstates’ in name only), and the Florida Turnpike (a six-lane high-speed highway that runs the length of the state from north to south), it is possible to go from Pensacola, Florida in the extreme north-west of the state to Miami on the south-eastern coast, in a little over 12 hours, keeping an average speed of 60 miles an hour the entire way.

It took Alex and Louise three weeks.

The reasons for the long delay were many. The first, and perhaps most important reason, was their decision upon reaching Tallahassee, the capital of Florida, to leave the highways and take smaller surface roads on their trek from the northern reaches to the southern. It was an impulse decision, an urge to see the “real” Florida, rather than the “highway Florida”, a term that neither Alex nor Louise could fully define. This single decision turned the four-hour drive from Tallahassee to Orlando into an eight-hour drive.

The second reason was their decision, once they reached Orlando, to finish their interrupted honeymoon. Three weeks spent in Orlando taking in the four Disney theme parks, Sea World, the two theme parks at Universal Studios, swimming with dolphins at Discovery Cove, Legoland, Gatorland, Dinoland, a strange Biblical theme park called the Holy Land Experience that featured an actor dressed up as Jesus who broke into a musical number just before being 'crucified.' They even dropped by a sixteen-square acre indoor flea market that had the brass to call itself 'Flea World' and advertised itself as 'the biggest flea market in the world,' and while they were there actually managed to find some things they decided they couldn't live without.

They swam at Wet'n'Wild, at Aquatica, at Blizzard Beach and Typhoon Lagoon. They played complex interactive computer games and retro video games at DisneyQuest. They ooh'ed and ah'ed at the interactive experiments at the John Young Science Center. They ooh'ed and ah'ed at the artworks of Florida-born artists at the Museum of Art. They took in the latest performances by Cirque du Soleil and the Blue Man Group. They took day trips to Daytona on Florida's east coast to play on the beach, and while there visited Kennedy Space Center. They too day trips to Florida’s west to Tampa on Florida's west coast to also play on the beach and while there they visited Busch Gardens. They saw stand-up comedians and obscure musical acts and circus shows. Zoos and street performers and even dinner theater. For three weeks, the pair hit every major – and minor – restaurant, every major – and minor – show, every possible sight they could reach in their time in Orlando.

And when it was all over, when they'd repacked their bags with their clothes and their new souvenirs and can't-live-without doo-dads, and got back out onto the open road, it took them only four hours to get from Orlando to Miami. They weren't sure how to find Jennifer Kale, or the Nexus of All Realities, but Nico had told them that Miami was a good place to start.

_Definitely Miami..._

**XxxxxxX**

Alex stood on the balcony of the Oriental Suite, on the top floor of the Mandarin Oriental Miami hotel. She had decided, in the two days they'd been there already, that she could stare at the nighttime skyline across Biscayne Bay for hours. It connected to her in a way the New York skyline nor the Los Angeles skyline never did. Louise came up behind her and handed Alex a glass with ice and Sprite. Alex sipped it without turning from the view.

“It's the ocean.” Louise said, breaking the silence. Alex looked at her in surprise, wondering how Louise had known what she was thinking. “it's all over your face, baby doll. There's something about the ocean here that's different from the ocean in Cali. I mean, in LA, the ocean is constantly roiling and loud and noisy and energetic. Here, the ocean is in just as much motion, but it's like it's not trying to conquer the beach, just co-exist with it.”

The Oriental Suites were the largest and most expensive room in the hotel, and they'd taken one on impulse. In Alex's opinion, the view was all the evidence she needed to know that the impulse was a good one even if the room did have more space than they could ever use and ran close to $10,000 a night. The balcony, which ran the entire length of the suite, offered views of both the Bay and the Atlantic Ocean proper.

Alex still couldn't take her eyes off the Bay. “You know, I think I've fallen in love with the place.”

“The hotel?” From the look on Louise's face, Alex could tell she was teasing.

“Florida. Miami. This!” Alex gestured, taking the entire view in with her arm. “Did you see the sunrise this morning? It was like poetry.”

“I was still sleeping. I missed it. But you can wake me up tomorrow and I'll watch the next one with you.” Louise gave Alex a hug.

“Okay. Tomorrow after breakfast we need to hit the New Age and Occult book stores. We've got to find Jennifer Kale.”

“You know, Alex, if you're in love with this place so much, why don't we just settle? I'll be happy wherever you are, no matter what. We can find a house, buy a second car, maybe find a donor and I'll have a kid we can raise.”

That stopped Alex cold. They'd never discussed children past the two of them acknowledging that since she was, in fact, not a human being there wasn't going to be any babies for Alex unless a miracle happened and humans could breed with Kryptonians. Not to mention the entire _Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex_ problem in reverse. "You want to have a baby?”

“Well, you know.” Louise shrugged. “Someday. I'm not asking you to arrange a sperm donor and a turkey baster just yet, but someday, yeah. I think I could be a good mom.” She hugged Alex close, then stepped toward the suite. “You coming in?”

“In a minute.” Alex took another sip of her Sprite. She gave Louise a smile. “You go ahead. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Louise paused in the door and turned back to Alex. “Do you mind us staying in? I know you mentioned something about going dancing.”

“No, that's fine. We can go tomorrow night.” Alex finished her soda and followed Louise in. As she rinsed the glass out and put it in the suite's small dishwasher, she could hear Louise tapping away at the piano. _Our hotel room came with a piano. That's just weird,_ Alex thought with a smile. Louise couldn't play, but Alex could thanks to the memories she retained from Kara.

**XxxxxxX**

“Wow. I forgot all about that.” Louise said from the car's passenger seat.

“Forgot about what?” Alex turned left. “I think it's up here somewhere.” They'd just hit the third Occult shop on a list of eight that looked like it did more than just pander to the tourists and day-players. So far, nobody at any of the shops had ever heard of Jennifer Kale. Five more to go.

“Twelve days until Halloween.”

Alex shot Louise a shocked look. She held it long enough that Louise was afraid she was going to run into something. Louise frantically tapped the dashboard of the car. “Eyes on the road! Eyes on the road!”

Alex hit the brakes, pulled into a street-side parking space, and threw the car into park. “Oh God.” Alex's head hit the steering wheel. She rested it against the backs of her hands. “I can't believe it.”

“What's the matter, baby?” Louise rubbed Alex's back.

“I'll be okay. It's just –” Alex sighed. “It's a bit of a shock. It's been a year, almost. A year. I completely lost track of time passing. Just give me a second. I'll be okay.”

“Well, that's a good thing!” Louise said, a bit sardonically. She kissed Alex's ear and the two hugged again. “Being okay is better than not. But it does raise a question.” Alex quirked an eyebrow, and Louise explained: “What are we doing on Halloween to celebrate, silly-goose?”

“I, uh, I hadn't thought about it. Why? Do you have any ideas?”

“This is Miami. We're a couple of miles from South Beach, the second most partying-est town in America! We're rich! We're young! We're pretty! There's bound to be a Halloween bash we can get into, right? Let's go celebrate! It's Halloween and your birthday, all rolled into one! And hey, I'm all about celebrating you being here!”

Alex shook her head and smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like fun! Let's do that. I'll talk to the concierge guy at the hotel about finding a way to get us into a good party.” Her eyes widened. “Ooh! And I've got a great idea for a costume! We're going to have to talk to a tailor or something.”

“Yeah, you've got that standard size problem.” Louise smiled and sat back. What with being taller than the average woman, not to mention much more muscular, Alex found out quickly she either wore men's sizes or bought as specialty stores. “Oh hey, I've got an idea. Let's hit this next magic shop and then take the rest of the day off. Go get some lunch, hit the beach, maybe. Oh, hey! How about a movie? You were talking about wanting to see _Idiocracy_. Let's go do that! We can get back to the hunt tomorrow. Jennifer Kale isn't going anywhere.”

XxxxxxX

The shop's name was 'Celestial Treasures', and it was decorated in such a way that it convinced Alex that the owner was a hippy who never gave up the movement. There were plants everywhere, and lots of uplifting message posters on the wall. She counted at least three cats roaming around the place, and there was some wind-chime lyric-less music going on in the background. She crinkled her nose; the entire place smelled vaguely of applewood incense, which to Alex's heightened sense of smell made the place stink to high-heaven. Candles and incense platters on every surface. There was even a bell above the door.

The lady behind the counter was in her 60s, pleasantly plump, and was wearing a pair of tinted glasses that reminded Alex of John Lennon. She smiled at the two girls as they entered, and it was a friendly, honest smile.

“Good morning, ladies. Anything I can do for you today? We're having a sale on meditation candles. Personally, I love the green ones. They're pine-scented.”

“Uh, actually we're trying to find someone.” Alex stepped forward, and Louise followed. “Her name's Jennifer Kale. We have reason to believe that she's known to the people who run this sort of shop. Uh, Nico Minoru in Los Angeles suggested we contact New Age and Occult shops to find her.”

The woman behind the counter's attitude changed, but it was subtle. Suddenly she was guarded. “Nico pointed you our way, did she? And you're looking for Jennifer Kale?” The woman studied them for a minute. “You mind if I make a call? I mean, you don't look evil. You don't smell evil, but a girl's got to be careful.”

“Uh, no, go ahead.” Alex shrugged. When the woman disappeared into the back of the ship, she and Louise started wandering. Alex browsed the titles of the books while Louise ended up scritching the cats. Sooner than they thought, the woman was back. She rushed up to Alex, grabbed the younger girl's hand, and was pumping it furiously. A huge grin was plastered on the woman's face.

“Oh, this is just so cool! Really, really cool!” The woman took a deep breath and started again. “Okay, well, I called Ray who called Darby who called Nico who called me back and vouched for you. I'm Melissa. I had no idea you were the girl from the YouTube video! That's so cool!” Melissa was obviously jazzed. “You've got to give me your autograph or something! I mean, this is just wow! Good for you, sticking it to the man like that! Fascist bastards had it coming, what they're turning this country into!”

“Uh, thanks. Sure, I can do an autograph.” Alex looked to Louise, who smiled and nodded.

“Wow! I mean, just wow! So, you're looking for Jennifer Kale and Nico sent you to the New Age shops. That's hilarious. Not a bad guess, but just shows how little Nico knows about Jennifer.” At Alex's blank look, Melissa just smiled. The older woman returned to her place behind the counter. “Nico has her heart in the right place, but unfortunately Jennifer isn't into the entire New Age thing. Don't get me wrong, she's an amazingly powerful witch, but when you get past a certain point the candles and the incense are just window dressing. I mean, I'm a fair spell-caster, but nowhere in her league. For that, you'd have to go to Strange up in New York, or that Voodoo guy in New Orleans. Unreal.”

Melissa grabbed a pencil and wrote something down on a bright orange piece of paper. Then she checked her watch. “If I remember right, Jennifer's working the early shift today. She'll be at that address until seven tonight.”

Alex looked at the paper. It read _Scarlett's, 2920 SW 30th Avenue_.

“Oh, wait.” Melissa shot a quick glance at Alex, then Louise. “You guys are over twenty-one, right?”

“Uh –” The hesitation apparently told Melissa all she needed.

“Right. Let me see your ID for a second.” A little reluctantly, Alex and Louise handed their drivers licenses over to the older woman. Melissa waved her hand over the card and muttered something unintelligible. Then she handed them back.

“Okay, girls. Congratulations. For the next five hours, your ID says that you're both twenty-two years old. It'll wear off after that, but it should get you in to talk to Jennifer. Oh, and if you don't have a couple hundred bucks in cash, I'd stop off at an ATM.”

“Cash?”

“Yeah, for tips. She'll expect you to tip her.”

**XxxxxxX**

2929 South-West 30th Avenue was a huge tan and gold building with no windows and two doors. There were long strips of neon running along the edges, lots of lights – all turned off in the day – and a neon sign reading 'Scarlett's Cabaret' over the door.

The parking lot was mostly empty, but the cars that were there were all high priced. The phrase 'Italian penis extensions' popped into Alex's head while she was taking in the cars. It was something that the Flash had told her at one point. Or told Kara, anyway. They were the type of car a middle-aged man with too much money and a need to look younger during his mid-life crisis would buy. Porsche. Lamborghini. Maserati. Surprisingly, there was also a beat-up Volkswagen beetle, a station wagon, and mini-van of some kind.

Louise was still staring at the building. “Was she kidding?”

“What?”

“Melissa. Was she kidding? We're supposed to find Jennifer Kale here? All-powerful sorceress who can help us get you back home?” Louise was shaking her head.

“This is the address.” Alex idly tapped the GPS unit built into the dashboard of the Mercedes. “Says we're in the right spot.”

“Alex, this is a strip-joint.” Louise pointed. “See? No windows, lots of neon, not a lot of business during the day. It's a titty bar.”

They both turned to stare at the building.

“A titty bar. And Jennifer Kale is working the early shift and will be here until seven.” Alex glanced at Louise. “You don't suppose she's a bartender, or the owner of the place?”

“With our luck? Oh, no.” Louise giggled. “Melissa said we'd need cash for tips. Tips for _her_. For Kale. Why do you think that might be, Alex?”

“The idea that a Doctor Strange-level wizard is a stripper –” Alex shook her head again. “Unreal.”

They paid the cover price and entered the club itself. It was immediately clear why the cover was $30. The main room was gigantic, and the extended stage was close to fifty yards long. Everything was red and purple, with neon and laser light and artificial fog. The music was some sort of techno-beat and was grinding and loud. The main room was overseen by two rows of VIP boxes on the upper level. A handful of men were here and there around the room. Some were concentrating on the main stage, some on individual dancers at their table. A few were ignoring the girls to talk, and at least three were ignoring the girls to eat. Alex and Louise were the only women in the room not dancing“So, table or a booth? Or stage-side?”

“Let's get a booth.” Alex led her to the back wall. A few seconds later a waitress was there to take drink orders.

When the waitress left, Louise began speaking. “I'm not sure about Florida, but in California there were actual laws regarding how much contact you could have with a stripper in a club like this. Other than incidental contact, you can't touch them at all except one hand to the other, like if they're climbing stairs you can hold your hand out and they can take it to steady themselves. Or if they offer you their hand and you shake it. Otherwise, don't touch. They, on the other hand, can touch you above your, uh, chest-line and your arms and your legs just above the knee.”

“What do you mean by incidental contact?”

“Well,” Louise thought about it. “Things like if you're brushing past them, no one's going to arrest you if you bump into one of the naked dancers on the floor. Or if you touch their hip or thigh while putting money in their garter. Just don't let it be lingering. You can get arrested.”

“That's a pretty neat routine.” Louise pointed to the stage. The three dancers were completely nude. Two were mobile, leaping and twirling while spinning what looked like flaming majorette batons. The third was stationary in the middle of the stage, fire-eating while crouching, shaking her ass in an obvious pantomime of sexual activity. “And, uh, hot. No pun intended.”

The fire-eating act ended after a few minutes, and while the girls were leaving the stage a beautiful blonde-haired woman stepped up. She was dressed what could only be described as a stainless-steel bikini, a tiara, and a powder-blue cape.

“And now welcome to our stage, the wonderful _Witchcraft!_ ”

Alex and Louise watched for a few minutes, then exchanged glances. “That's got to be her. So how do we get her attention?”

“Best way I know to get a stripper's attention is dollars in the waistband.” Louise pulled a wad of cash out of her pocket and peeled off the top bill. It was a hundred. She held it out to Alex. “Ask her if she'll stop by our booth after she's done her set.”

“What?”

“The dancers mingle. After they're done they circulate around the crowd, caging drinks and doing lap dances. It gets them extra money and drums up business for the bar. Ask her to come over.” Louise gave Alex a little shove. “Go to it, lover!”

Alex took the bill and approached the stage. When 'Witchcraft' noticed her, the dancer slunk over, rotating herself in a very, _very_ enticing way. Alex smiled up at her and held up the folded hundred-dollar bill. 'Witchcraft' spun slowly, then pulled her thong away from her hip and moved it closer to Alex. The action gave Alex an excellent view of the woman's goodies. She inserted the bill between thong and 'Witchcraft's' hip. Then, remembering Louise's comment regarding 'incidental contact' Alex trailed the back of a finger down the girl's leg.

'Witchcraft' took a step back and began what looked like a belly-dancing routine in front of Alex. In seconds, the girl's top was gone. She hooked a finger at Alex, who leaned over a chair toward the dancer. 'Witchcraft' put her hands on Alex's shoulder and dipped forward in a slow curving arc that brought the woman's nipples tantalizingly close to Alex's mouth and actually did brush her cheek once. The dancer continued to undulate against Alex for several long minutes before pulling her breasts away. She kissed Alex on the ear and whispered a quick “Thanks. I don't often get hundreds.”

“We've got more where that came from. Come to our booth.” Alex pointed behind her, smiled, and said, “We want to talk to you. We know your real name. Nico Minoru said you could help us. And, uh, not just by you dancing for us.”

The dancer never stopped moving, but she did seem to hesitate for a moment. At the mention of Nico Minoru, her eyes seemed to line up. “Okay. I'll be there after the set. Order a bottle of champagne. That way you'll have me all to yourself and the manager won't give me any crap about it. I'm still going to have to dance for you though. The guys behind the bar will know what brand.”

Alex nodded stepped away, and returned to the booth. Louise was there, grinning like a maniac.

“So, how was it? Did she get you all hot and bothered, sweetheart?”

“That was – that was interesting.” The two of them sat and watched the rest of the dancer's routine. “And yeah, it really turned me on.”

“Cool! I get the first lap dance.” Louise's grin was infectious.

 

XxxxxxX

 

Alex watched Jennifer Kale grind her naked ass onto her partner's groin with a smile on her face. Louise was sitting on her hands to keep from grabbing the dance, and Kale was having a good time keeping her nipples just an inch and a half away from the skin of Louise's face. They were, in Alex's opinion, a perfect set of comic book breasts, too. Like most super-heroines, Jennifer Kale enjoyed the Most Common Superpower. They weren't anywhere close to Alex's own boobs, but they were certainly impressive.

Alex sipped the Moet and Chandon that the dancer had asked them to buy for her – $200 for a bottle of champagne, and Alex didn't even like champagne – and sat back. The question and answer period hadn't started yet. Kale had apparently decided that keeping the management from noticing that this wasn't anything more than a couple of girls having fun getting aroused by a naked woman was more important than getting down to business. Alex figured it was fair. She and Louise were interrupting Kale's livelihood, after all, and if Kale decided that they would pay for the privilege, Alex could live with it. They'd be years spending through the money in the gym bag, much less their bank accounts. Throwing Kale a couple hundred bucks was nothing if it helped her get home. Hell, throwing her a couple of thousand wouldn't be anything. Plus, if Alex could read Louise's body language – and she could – she knew she was getting laid and laid heavy later.

Soon enough the song was over. Jennifer Kale put her outfit back on and used a cocktail napkin dampened from the champagne bucket's condensation to wipe herself down. She took the champagne flute Alex handed her with a smile. “Okay, you know who I am and Nico Minoru sent you. You have the names right, anyway. Got to tell you, I don't mind the money. But if you're fucking with me, I'll turn you into rabbits and drop you into the middle of Dell's Gator Farm.”

“Hey, no problem. We're not fucking with anybody but each other.” Louise cackled. She emptied her own glass in one gulp and refilled it.

“Right.” Kale looked at Alex and took another sip. “Karen Starr. How can I help the most powerful girl in the world?”

“I'm not Karen Starr. Never met the girl, never called myself that, never claimed to be Karen Starr.” Alex put her champagne flute back on the table. “That's SHIELD's mistake. I'm Alexandra Harris. Nice to meet you.”

“You’re saying that you're not the girl who kicked the asses of a dozen super-heroes and SHIELD agents back at the end of August?”

Alex was shrugging. “That was me, sure. it's just that for some reason SHIELD thinks I'm Karen Starr when I'm not. Like I said, I never claimed to be. I'm Alexandra Harris.”

“Really? Okay. Alexandra Harris, then. You came to my town and were looking for me.” Kale took another sip of the champagne, then continued to wipe her face and chest clean of sweat with the napkin. “I guess the question is what do you want? Are we going to fight now or something? A bit weird, coming to a girl's job, giving her a hundred-dollar tip, and buying a two hundred-dollar bottle of bubbly just to fight her. Not to mention the lap dance you bought for your girlfriend.”

“No, nothing like that. I need your help. I, uh, we – we want to get home.”

“So go.” Kale shrugged. “From what I saw, you can fly. What's stopping you?”

“I'm from an alternate universe.”

Kale stared at Alex, then tossed back the remainder of her champagne. She poured herself another glass, still staring. “And Nico couldn't help you? She's got the juice for that.”

“Nico tried, but couldn't get the job done. Something unexpected kept it from working, and you know the thing about her only casting a spell once, right?” Alex fiddled with a napkin. “She sent us here because you're one of the guardians of the Nexus of All Realities.”

“WHOAH! Whoah! Really, really bad idea!” Alex and Louise both flinched at the retort. It came just as the music dropped to nothing for a second between dancer sets. The DJ had been preparing to announce the next dancer – a girl in full on cat-girl makeup, including a tail – when Kale had shouted.

“What's a bad idea?” Louise hissed the question. She and Alex both were eyeing the rest of the club to see whose attention had been gained.

“Because the Nexus doesn't --” Kale stopped talking abruptly. One of the bouncers had shown up.

“Everything all right here, ladies?” He asked the question to everyone, but one of his hands was behind his back, at his hip, and his eyes held nothing but Alex. Made sense, given that Alex was not only taller than the guy, but more muscular. “You okay, Witchcraft?”

“Everything's fine, Jay. They just surprised me. It's cool. I'll try to keep it down next time.” The guy, Jay, met Kale's eyes and searched them for a moment, before he nodded.

“All right. Sorry to bother you.” Jay the Bouncer retreated to his previous position, but Alex could see he was keeping an eye on their booth. From what she could tell, the thing on his hip he'd been reaching for was one of those collapsing rods that the FBI used.

When the guard was gone. Kale leaned forward. “That is a supremely unwise idea because the Nexus doesn't work that way. Yeah, sure, _technically_ It could get you home. But just as likely it could drop you into an Earth where the British won the American Revolution, or where the Russian Empire and not the British ruled the world in the 1800s, or, or maybe something more outlandish, like a world with no shrimp, or where nobody has superpowers, or, I don’t know, some world that’s identical to a TV show or something.” She leaned forward and stabbed a finger into the table. “The point being, there's no way to control it. You jump into the thing, and you become a human pinball loose in the annals of history.”

Alex had gone very, very still. Louise was staring at her, holding her hand. Tears were welling up in the girl's eyes. But Alex wasn't paying attention. She wasn't paying attention to anything, really.

Jennifer Kale sat back, uncomfortable with what she'd obviously done. “Look, I hope you didn't come to me as some sort of last hope. There must be other ways for you to get back to your world than just me and Nico Minoru. Stephen Strange will be back eventually. Maybe you can ask him.”

“What about you? Nico said you were a Magister.” Louise was still holding onto Alex's hand.

“Sorry.” Kale shook her head. “I might have the juice for it, but I don't have the know-how. If I did it, it'd be worse than if you jumped through the Nexus, because I could land you anywhere.”

“But what a --” Whatever else Louise was going to say was cut off when Alex abruptly stood up. “Alex?”

“I, uh, I got to get out of here. Here are the keys.” Alex tossed the keys to the Mercedes onto the table. “I'll – I got to-- “She locked eyes with Jennifer Kale. “You see her back to our hotel room safe.”

“What? You want me to --” But Alex was already striding for the door.

**XxxxxxX**

Alex had no real idea where she was, anymore, or how long she'd been walking around. When she finally did start noticing, she was surrounded by tall, tall buildings and it had become dark. There were still people on the streets; like LA and New York, Miami never fully slept. But in this part of town, most of the buildings were dark, and the people were moving from one lively area to the other. Those that weren't looked like bank buildings, or newspaper offices, or even law firms. Businesses that did their thing during the day. The moon was high, and only partly covered in clouds. The stars were barely visible, due to the light coming off the city. For a moment, Alex thought about giving Louise a call, but when she reached for her phone she remembered leaving it in the car. It was still there. And Alex hadn't seen a payphone since she arrived in this world.

Alex made note of the growing shadows, but she didn't feel like going back to the room yet. She felt like something inside of her had died. She'd accepted that she was a girl months ago. Her odd relationship with Louise, likewise, had settled things out and become somewhat normal. She'd grown used to her powers and no longer felt that she was two people in one body, but a single whole person made from the merging of the two. But she had always held out hope of getting back to Sunnydale. To using these new gifts to help her friends. To helping whoever needed it.

Heroics had been Xander's daydream and Kara's life. The urge to be excellent, to make things better, to leave the world that much finer than it was when she arrived. It was a part of her. And she'd earnestly wanted to make things easier for Buffy, and for Willow, and for Giles, and even for the real, original Xander.

But not anymore. It wasn't going to happen.

Not really paying attention, Alex had stopped at an intersection, waiting for the WALK sign so she could cross to the next stretch of sidewalk. The sound of a load of metal crashing into the street brought her out of her reverie. The object now sitting in the middle of the intersection looked for all the world it looked like the crumpled tail of a helicopter.

Alex looked up.

High above, hanging from the edge of the roof of the skyscraper she was standing next to, was the rest of the helicopter. Alex concentrated and the thing sprang closer in her view. There were two passengers, plus the pilot. The pilot and one of the passengers weren't moving, but the third passenger was trying to climb out and back onto the roof. And that was a problem because the helicopter was hanging only from a landing strut, and the movement of the passenger was slowly shaking it loose.

Alex stepped off the curb, still watching the helicopter far above her. Without warning, she was jarred as a bright yellow metro taxi smashed into her head on with a loud, sickening crunch. She turned to the cab; steam was pouring from the radiator, while other darker liquids were streaming from the bottom of the engine.

“Oh, my God!” The driver, uninjured, climbed out of the driver's window and ran to Alex. “I didn't – dee – you – What in the _fuck_?”

Alex smiled at the man's confusion. “Sorry, I shouldn't have tried crossing against the light. Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.” The driver was still staring at the indention in the cab's front end, from where it had folded itself around Alex's body. _“What the fuck!”_

“Do you have any passengers?” She checked herself with her X-ray vision. No passengers.

“No, no, I was off-duty. Jesus – what happened? What the fuck just happened? Are you okay, Miss? Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

Alex looked back at the helicopter. It was shifting dangerously and the moving passenger had frozen in place. She could hear the woman screaming from the street. “No, I'm fine. But you should go get checked out just in case.” She lowered her gaze to him. “Concussions are no joke. Now, if you'll excuse me.” Alex gave the cabby a friendly smile, then launched herself into the sky.

“So, anyone else suffering from deja vu?” Alex said to herself as she rushed upward. She shook her head, trying to clear the images of Christopher Reeve and Margot Kidder and that all-encompassing, totally appropriate music from her head. The helicopter's strut, over-stressed by carrying the aircraft's entire weight, snapped. It fell, hurtling down toward the ground. Alex caught it, allowing the thing's momentum to push her downward to avoid smashing through the helicopter's fuselage. She could smell aviation fuel spilling into the wind, but didn't see any spark points. Alex moved her grip to get a better hold, then dropped toward the ground, no more swiftly than an elevator.

The cab driver ran up, wide-eyed. “That was AMAZING!”

“Thanks.” Alex smiled at the man. “Hey, you got a cell phone? Yeah? Get on it. Call 911. There are hurt people here.”

“Whatever you say, lady!”

Alex kept an eye on the guy long enough to see him pull his phone out and punch the emergency number. The screaming woman had stopped screaming and was now calling for help. Alex hopped onto the side – now the top, given its orientation to the ground – and pulled the door off.

“Here, give me your hand?” She leaned down and took the frightened woman by the wrist and pulled her from the wreckage. “It's okay. I got you.” She lowered the woman to the ground, and then pulled the pilot and the unconscious passenger out. “That man there has called 911,” Alex said as she laid the injured crash-victims on the ground, pointing to the cab-driver. “An ambulance should be here any minute. Tell the EMTs that these two don't have any significant injuries, but that they should check for concussion. Oh, and your friend, the other passenger, has a hairline fracture in his right shin bone.”

Alex turned away, then turned back. She couldn't resist. “Oh, and ma'am? I hope this little incident doesn't put you off flying. Statistically, it's still the safest way to travel.”

The woman stared at her, open-mouthed. “I –”

Alex gave her a jaunty wave, and then took off. She giggled. Time was, she hated the fact that she giggled, but now? _Fuck it, I'm a giggler. And why the hell not, right?_ Above the buildings, she executed a barrel roll, feeling a kind of release. A genuine physical joy in the act of flying.

Alex's hearing brought her the shouted “Thank you!” from the woman she just rescued. It made her feel better about everything.

**XxxxxxX**

Alex spotted the two men rappelling down the side of the Bank of America Tower from nearly three blocks away. She wasn't even looking for them. Alex had seen the tower, of course, and had been planning on swooping up and over it while flying across the city, but her eye had been drawn to the movement. She spotted them just as they pulled the huge pane of glass inward. That had sparked her curiosity. But when Alex saw them toss the ropes out and down the building's side, she knew something was going on.

Alex closed with the men while they were still hooking up their harnesses to their lines. Past them, inside the building, a quick X-ray peek showed an open bank vault whose safe deposit boxes were in disarray. The man had just stepped out into the air, putting their weight on the ropes, when suddenly she was there.

“Howdy, fellas. Nice night for a walk, isn't it?” She held the loose ends of each of their lines in her hands, and the waved them at the two burglars. The men looked back at the hole in the glass, now thirty feet above them, and then back down to their now-useless rappelling gear.

“So, do you give up, or do I have to show you what it's like to be in an elevator with the cables cut?” She flew above them and shifted the lines to one hand. She reached out and grabbed the two lines in the other hand. “Tell you what, I'll give you to three, then I'm yanking your ropes out from under you. One! Two!”

“Yeah, okay! You got us! Stop!”

**XxxxxxX**

Minutes later, Officer Carl Perez and Officer Juan Batista were startled when two men, dressed in rappelling harnesses and wrapped in black rope, along with two heavily loaded gym bags, were dropped unceremoniously in front of their patrol car where they were taking a quick break to have a sandwich and a cup of coffee. The two policemen climbed out of their car as the two men struggled to their feet.

“Hey, cop! Arrest us! We confess already! We just got done robbing the Bank of America.” The first of the men yelled. “We got all kinds of whatchacall it, evidence in the bags. Just keep that crazy girl away from us!”

Officer Batista pushed his cap back on his head and scratched. “And what girl would that be?”

“Her!” The other man said, pointing upward.

Batista looked up. The pretty girl standing on nothing just waved, smiled, and took off into the air.

“Hey, Carl! Good news, man! I think Miami's got itself a superhero!” Batista said, watching the girl rise until the dark swallowed her. His words reached Alex's ears, and she couldn't help but grin.

**XxxxxxX**

The late-model Cadillac spun onto A1A under the I-95 overpass. Two police cars, lights flashing and sirens blaring, were in pursuit. The driver of the Caddy pulled left, sending his car up and over the sidewalk and between two of the concrete support pillars. The first of the patrol cars managed to repeat the maneuver and maintain the pursuit. The second slid into one of the supports.

The Cadillac squealed into a one hundred and eighty degree turn and sped back up A1A, rapidly pulling away from the police cruiser. It swerved through traffic, and then made an abrupt right turn onto Oceanic. Two blocks later, the Caddy had pulled into a darkened parking lot.

Three young men piled out of the car. All of them were armed.

“Let's go, let's go. Grab the shit, let's get gone!” The obvious leader turned away from the car to head down the alley next to the parking lot, only to stop dead in his tracks.

“Hey, guys! Did I miss the party?”

When the police arrived, not a minute later, they found the three hoods unconscious, seat-belted into their car. The car itself was upside down in the middle of Oceanic Avenue, spinning like a top.

**XxxxxxX**

At first, the shift supervisor for the Miami Police Emergency Services Office thought that it was a joke. She'd taken the frantic call from the guy who said that a flying girl had caught a crashing helicopter out of the air and then directed him to call 911 for the crash victims as a joke. Oh sure, she sent the ambulance, but she also sent a squad car, because it had to be someone trying to prank emergency services.

 

But the other calls. Eventually it added up.

_… the desperate man whose tire had blown out while trying to get his pregnant wife to the hospital. The flying girl had told the couple to strap in and she carried the car through the air to Mercy General..._

_… the man chased by the pack of teens, howling racial epithets at him and blaming him for things that people who looked like him had done, who'd been rescued by a vision of strength and purity who had dropped out of the sky..._

_… two police officers reporting a girl who had quite literally dropped two burglary suspects off in front of them..._

_… the house fire that had been extinguished by a flying teenager who just huffed and puffed and blew the fire out!..._

_… the little girl who told the emergency room doctor that an angel had come and helped her Momma, when she couldn't get her Momma to wake up..._

_… the convenience store clerk who reported that the attempted robbery was foiled by 'this hot chick with really righteous ta-tas' who just grabbed the gun and tore it to pieces with her bare hands'..._

_… the attempted rape that ended with both rapist and victim at the emergency room, him being treated for the horrific trauma of sexual assault, her being treated for multiple broken bones..._

_… the man on the ledge who'd been ready to jump until a blonde girl appeared out of thin air. She sat down next to him on the ledge and asked him if he'd like to talk about it..._

These were real. These were really happening. Someone out there was helping, one person at a time. This person was trying to make a difference. The shift supervisor wasn't sure, but it seemed as if there was a super-strong flying girl out there somewhere, and she was helping just because she could.

It looked like Miami had its own superhero, finally.

**XxxxxxX**

Louise woke up to the sound of tapping. For several minutes, she had incorporated the sound into her dream, but eventually something in her mind recognized the incongruity of a bell that sounded like someone tapping a finger on a windowpane and caused her to wake up. She stood up, rubbing at the back of her neck. Sleeping on the couch, she'd developed a crick. The tapping occurred again, and Louise turned to the balcony door. It was still dark outside. A glance at the clock read 5:39 am. Sunrise was an hour away, still.

And there was Alex. A very sheepish looking, guilty-looking Alex. Alex had a box of Dunkin Donuts in one hand and a carrier full of what could only be coffee cups in her other. It was an obvious bribe to get Louise to not be so upset. She stood in front of the sliding glass door, hands on her hips, staring at the Kryptonian through the glass. Louise tapped her foot in what was admittedly an over-dramatic fashion, thinking all the while.

“Come on, Louise, let me in. Don't make me stand out here all morning!” Alex's voice was distorted by the glass. “I'm sorry! I bring sugary goodness as a peace offering! Please! I need to talk to you! I had a revelation!”

Louise's eyes narrowed. She wasn't quite ready to forgive being abandoned in a strip club for fuck sake, but she also wasn't quite ready to throw Alex out on her ass because of it. Louise unlocked the door, then turned her back and strode into the room's kitchen.

“Hey, Louise --”

“I'm not talking to you.”

“But --”

“No! No talking! Right now, I'm pissed off, and I'm justified in being so! You just be quiet and sit at the table and take your punishment!” Louise glared. “You just sit there and don't say a word. And don't move. Don't even breath! Just sit there!” Louise poured herself a glass of orange juice and downed it in one long pull. She eyes Alex, who had done exactly as she demanded. Alex was sitting at the kitchen table, her hands in her lap, staring down at the tabletop. Her face showed clear signs of dejection.

It took a moment for Louise to realize that Alex was holding her breath. She really wasn't breathing. Rolling her eyes, Louise said, “I'm going to go take a shower and get dressed. You're going to sit there and when I come back out, you're going to explain to me why you left me at a strip-joint, where the fuck you've been all morning. Why are your clothes all dirty? And why do you smell like smoke?” She suddenly realized she was not _not_ talking to Alex, and stomped off out of the room for the bedroom.

Louise took her sweet time with the shower, and afterward brushed her teeth diligently. She then took great care in picking out her clothing for the day. When she was done, a grand total of an hour and ten minutes had gone by. Alex was still sitting there, looking at the tabletop. Louise stared at her partner, thinking but not making any decisions. Louise retrieved the complementary newspaper from in front of the suite's entrance and tucked it under her arm. It was time. She walked into the kitchen – sending Alex an unseen yet forgiving glance; her partner still hadn't moved from the table – Louise pulled two glasses from the cabinet, grabbed the milk from the fridge, and poured. One of the glasses she put in front of Alex, who looked up at her surprised.

“Can't eat donuts without something to drink, and since I'm why the coffee you brought is cold, I figured I'd supply the substitute.” Louise pushed the donuts close to Alex. “Go ahead. I'm still annoyed, but I'm not pissed anymore.”

“I'm sorry about just leaving you like that. I needed ---”

“That's not good enough anymore, Alex.” Louise shook her head. “it's not. Either we're married and we act married by sharing our problems and helping, or we're not. Now, are we?”

“Are we what?”

“Are we married? Are we partners? Are we helping each other?”

Alex sunk into herself. “I hope so.”

“Then don't ever just walk away from me again! Ever! Don't go into this weird existential crisis where you, I don't know, go into a depression because, oh my God! you find out your stuck being rich and pretty with a sexy woman in your bed every night who loves you! Sorry if that's not good enough for you! If _I'm_ not good enough for you! Sorry you can't get back to your precious little Buffy and your even more precious Willow, _Alexandra!_ But hey, I know, let's get all upset and forget that we're in a committed relationship that for one of us at least means something!” Louise surprised herself with the rant; she really thought she wasn't pissed off anymore.

Looking for something else, anything else, to take up her attention, Louise yanked open the box of donuts and grabbed one. She was just about to bite into it when she realized that it was maple glazed. She looked at the box and found that they were all maple-glazed. Her favorite kind of donut; maple glazed donuts brought her back to the days before she came out to her parents as a mutant, back when they still loved her and hadn't tossed her out on the street. She'd told Alex about maple-glazed donuts early in their relationship, and why she loved them. Alex had tried one, at her urging, and had to spit the bite out. Alex could not stand the taste of them.

And Alex had just brought her an entire box of them.

Louise put the donut down with a sigh. “You brought me an entire box.”

“Yeah.”

“Of maple-glazed donuts.

“Yeah.”

“Which I know you hate.”

“Yeah.

“You really are sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Louise opened the paper and was immediately riveted by the images on the front page. “Alex, is there something you want to tell me?” She held up the headline so Alex could read it. In big, 30-point font, it read _**FLYING SAMARITAN STUNS CITY!**_

At first Alex's eyes bugged and Louise could see that she obviously was struggling to say something that didn't sound stupid. In the end, she just shrugged. “I helped people last night. I'd like to keep doing that. I think I can be good at it.”

Louise lifted her head and stared. “When you say you helped people, you mean...?”

“Rescued some people, stopped some criminals, put out a fire.”

“That's the smoke I smell.” Louise said casually. “So, you helped people. And you enjoyed it?”

“Well, yeah.” Alex shrugged. “I don't know what to say. I guess I just got carried away. I just never imagined –”

“How good it could feel to help people?”

“Yeah. How good it could feel to help people.” Alex nodded, eyes downcast.

“Hey, it's okay. Nothing to be ashamed about.” Louise kissed Alex's neck, just under her jaw. “You helped people and you liked doing it because it was the right thing to do, right?”

“I guess.”

“So now you want to be a superhero? Is that what you're saying? After all this time saying you just wanted to lay low, you want to be a superhero, now?”

Alex shrugged again. “I guess. Are you mad at me?”

“Am I mad at you for wanting to be a good person and using your abilities to make the world a better place?” Louise almost laughed. “How could I be mad about that?” Louise almost said something else, but stopped. She was quietly thinking again. “All right. We'll do this. I mean, obviously you'll be doing it, but I'm going to be there backing you up all the way. But you're going to have to get a costume, of course. And you might want to call yourself something other than Power Girl. You've got to try and keep the identity secret.”

“But why?”

“Well, I can think of two reasons right away.” Louise held up a finger. “First, you can't be a hero twenty-four hours a day. If it got out who you were, people would be calling on you to help 24/7, 365 even for little things people can take of all by their lonesome. I mean, people are lazy, right?”

Alex nodded.

“And second, you're going to make enemies being a superhero, and some of those enemies are going to want to hurt me to get to you.” Louise watched the sky through the window in the kitchen as it lightened. “I'm all about being the supportive wife of the hero, but I do not want to be taken hostage by some creep with a grudge.”

“Okay. it's good that you say that. About wanting to support me. I wouldn't want to do this if you didn't.” Alex grinned. “I'll get you a t-shirt or a hat or something that says _Miss Lane_ on it. That way they'll know not to kidnap you.”

“Miss Lane?”

“it's a joke. I'll explain later.”

There was one question Louise needed answered. “What about SHIELD? What about the government?”

“I think I know what to do about that.”

“Good.” Louise stood and pulled Alex after her. She dragged her partner out onto the balcony.

“What are we doing out here?”

Louise leaned into Alex and hugged her. She whispered “Catch!” and jumped, and almost reflexively Alex caught her in a bridal carry. She reached up and cupped Alex's face and smiled. “I promised you yesterday that we would watch the sunrise together. Sun's almost up.”

Alex's face was a portrait of quiet confusion.

“It's okay, baby. You're forgiven for everything. Just don't do it again. No more running off without talking to me.” Louise rested her head against the slope of Alex's breasts.

“I promise.” Alex swallowed. “I, uh, figured something out last night. I, uh, we, I mean. We can stick around here. I mean, you know. Miami. South Florida somewhere. Maybe the Keys, or even Tampa or Daytona. Somewhere on the water. Buy a house, or I dunno, maybe just an apartment.”

“Sounds good. What'll we do after we settle down and get all domestic?” Louise brought a hand up and ran it along Alex's shoulder, then down the shallow at the base of her neck to just above the valley of her bosom and then back up.

“We'll live. Have fun. I dunno. Join a country club and learn to play golf or tennis. Buy a boat and go sailing maybe. Travel the world. We'll have a good time together.”

“Sounds like fun.” The sky had begun to acquire the rosy pink of an imminent sunrise. The new day was dawning, in more ways than one. Louise, who was no dummy even if she lacked much of a formal education, understood symbolism. She looked up at Alex, and saw a Something Face. “What is it?”

“I'll tell you later.” Alex said. “The show's starting.” They were silent, watching as the sun painted the day in oranges and yellows and pinks.

When it was all over, they stayed on the balcony, listening to the city wake up. “I think I had a couple of ideas for Halloween costumes.” Alex said. “We're going to need to find someone who can make them custom. Because I want mine made to last, and I want yours to be perfect.”

“You want your costume – you're going to dress up in your superhero costume for Halloween, aren't you?” Alex grinned, but didn't answer. “It might cost, you know.” Louise stood and stretched.

“What do we care? We're rich, remember?”

“Ah, no worries then.” Louise hopped down out of Alex's arms. “I'm going to call the concierge, see what he can do about tickets to some big-time Halloween party. How about you start looking through the phone book and we'll see what can be done about your costume?” She poured herself another glass of milk, grabbed another donut, and headed for the phone.

**XxxxxxX**

Halloween...

 

Alex's costume took almost a week and a half to finish and now she was putting it on for the first time. Given the time of year, she'd been initially skeptical of getting it in time for Halloween, but it turned out that you can achieve miracles when you tell someone that money is no object and mean it. She stared at herself in the mirror, not believing what she was wearing. It wasn't the white tights of Power Girl. It was mostly blue, with red paneling under her arms that joined with more red on the hips and legs. There was a gold belt, and a long red cape. They were his colors. In hindsight, Alex couldn't believe that she'd had the brass to ask the costumer to make this costume. It wasn't identical to his outfit. She wouldn't ever do that. But it was close.

She kept the décolletage. Kara had her reasons for including the boob window, and Alex respected it, so it stayed. So did the red gloves; they matched the red boots anyway. But Alex also couldn't wear this suit without the sigil of the House of El. It would have been disrespectful, she felt. The symbol adorned her belt buckle, and the two broaches that held the cape on.

Alex found herself feeling humble wearing his colors.

“Hey! Open up! Let's see it!” Louise banging on the bathroom door ruined Alex's ruined mood, and she couldn't help but laugh.

“Okay, okay, I'm coming out.” Alex opened the door, and there stood Louise in her own costume. At Alex's request, she'd dressed as Poison Ivy, a villain no one on this world had ever heard of. It had taken time to glue the latex leaves in place, but applying the light green body paint had taken the longest.

“Wow. That's impressive. That's like, major impressive.” Louise ran a hand along Alex's shoulder. “And hot, too. You look – wow! You're just all sticking out there!” Louise was having trouble keeping her eyes off the boob window.

“Louise, you do remember that you've seen them before, right? I mean, you've seen them without anything covering them up. You've had your hands and other things on my tits. What's the big deal?”

Louise laughed. “Doesn't matter, sweetie, this is something different. Just draws the attention to them. Yowzers.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Right. Let's go. We're going to be late for the party.”

It wasn't until they were in the elevator that Louise spoke again.

“So. What's the S for?”

“The S? What S?” Alex looked around.

“On your costume. Those shoulder things, and your belt buckle? It's an S in a diamond.”

“Oh. It’s not an S. It’s a Kryptonian word. Kryptonian writing is symbolic, like Chinese or Ancient Egyptian. A single symbol is an entire word, not just a single letter. On Krypton, this –” Alex tapped one of the broaches. “-- means 'hope.'”

“Yeah? Well baby, here on Earth, that's an S.”

Alex sighed. It was likely going to be a long night.

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freddie Prinze Jr. is an actor, writer, home-taught chef, gamer, amazing father, and loyal husband, and to be honest he’s an all-around fantastic human being. He’s also one of my friends. He is a Lakers fan, and when I did finally get out to see him he took me to a game in which the Lakers won over the Suns.
> 
>  
> 
> Some of the action in this chapter is derived from scenes in the now-classic 1978 film _Superman: The Movie_ starring the late, great Christopher Reeve as the Man of Steel. This derivation was done as a tribute to the character, who I still believe is one of the greatest fictional icons humanity has ever created, and to the man I believe best portrayed that icon. There are some people out there who think Superman is trite, boring, behind the times, and reflects a moral stance that is unrealistic in today's world of terror alerts and public paranoia. On the contrary, I think that we need Superman and what he stands for more than we ever have.
> 
>  
> 
> The part where I portrayed a mystic sorceress whose power rivals that of Doctor Strange an exotic dancer is not original to me. Believe it or not, that's part of her official, Marvel Comics-approved back-story. Yes, she defends the Earth from invaders that come through the Nexus, but her day job is taking off her clothes and dancing for money.
> 
>  
> 
> Scarlett's Cabaret is a real place. It combines the best elements of a strip club with the best elements of a night club, and is pretty much packed every night. Its classy, clean, safe, and ritzy, mostly because it caters to the high rollers who don't mind paying a $30 cover charge, $10 a drink, and so on.
> 
>  
> 
> The title “Definitely Miami” is taken from the title twelfth episode of _Miami Vice's_ second season. The episode was broadcast on January 10, 1986, and featured rock star Ted Nugent as a serial killer who preyed on drug dealers and prostitutes. This was, of course, before Ted Nugent turned himself into an ultra-right-wing nutjob.
> 
>  
> 
> For those who have never heard the phrase “Most Common Superpower”, it refers to the fact that most female superheroes who are past the age of puberty in the comic books have breasts that range from a basic D-cup upward. In addition, their breasts are not only large but remarkably self-supporting and perky for their size. Applying this specifically to Power Girl, there is an urban legend that says that Wally Wood -- one of the original artists for the character at DC Comics -- decided to start enlarging the character's chest from one issue to the next, just to see how far he could go before his bosses caught on. While this story is just a myth, the fact is, Power Girl is canonically the top-heaviest of all of DC Comics female characters. In other words, in a universe where all female humans have large breasts, she has even larger-than-normal breasts. Not only that, but she knows it, and has personally lampshaded it on occasion.
> 
> Just to compare, the single most buxom character in the Marvel Universe, where this story takes place, is She-Hulk. Officially – and I cannot believe Marvel has an official bra size for She-Hulk – officially, She-Hulk's bra size is 54-E, meaning that her chest – not counting her breasts – measures 54” around. (To give you an idea what this means, at the height of his bodybuilding career, Arnold Schwarzeneggar had a 54 inch chest, just like She-Hulk.) Her cup size, E, means that yes, she does have larger than normal breasts.
> 
> Compare this to Power Girl's official bra size, 40-H – and yes, I am just as shocked that DC Comics has an official bra size for Power Girl. Her chest is only 40 inches around (still an impressive and muscular build, especially for a woman), but her cup size is three sizes larger than She-Hulk’s.


	22. Look!  Up in the Sky!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“...and who, disguised as Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper, fights a never-ending battle for truth, justice, and the American way!” – **Opening Narration** , “The Adventures of Superman” TV Series_

**XxxxxxX**

Alex smiled as returned from the lady’s room. She expects that she's going to have to drop the hotel's concierge a huge tip for finding them tickets to this party at such a short notice. Originally, she thought the idea of a Halloween party on a casino cruise ship to be a bit odd. The entire idea of getting on a ship, the _Caribbean Queen_ , then sailing out past US territorial waters just so they could gamble seemed silly, especially since there was a casino on the Seminole reservation if people wanted to blow their money. But the music and the dinner and the dance floor made it all worth it.

The _Queen_ wasn't a true cruise ship, but it was bigger than a yacht, and it served the purpose.

Alex had received many a compliment on her costume, and surprisingly few had anything to do with the cleavage window. It made her feel a lot better about wearing _his_ colors. As corny as some people accused Superman of being, as old fashioned, as out of step with the times, as ridiculous – it didn't matter. Superman was _Superman_. He was the first and greatest of all the superheroes, ever, and in Alex's mind, nothing was ever going to chance that. Especially now that she was in the angst-ridden, grimmer-and-grittier Marvel Universe.

Of course, Louise, in her Poison Ivy costume, was receiving the lion's share of the appreciation. The fact that she was basically nude barring a tight layer of little plastic pieces helped garner her a level of attention that even the cleavage window didn't bring.

Louise was still at the bar, right where she'd left her, and it looked like she was successfully fending off another guy. The man was taller than Louise, but not enormously so, and was dressed in an exaggerated pinstripe suit and a white fedora, a gangster of some kind. Alex slowed her approach, and concentrated on the sound of their voices past the music coming from the speakers hanging above the dance floor. She was pleased to hear that the guy was obviously interested in Louise, but wasn't being pushy about it. He'd expressed his interest, she'd politely turned them down, and now they just seemed to be chatting about the party.

“I'd imagine it would be,” he was saying. “I mean, no offense, but you're really hot. And dressed like that?” He waved a hand toward the small collection of green plastic leaves that barely covered Louise at all. “If I was a woman and dressed like you are, I'd imagine I'd be driving people away with a stick. That must be tiring, isn't it? So, are you some sort of wood nymph or something?”

Louise laughed, a sound that always made Alex smile. “Or something. And if I wasn't with someone, it would be flattering. But I'm taken.” Alex's smile widened as Louise's eyes met her own. Her partner shot Alex a smile, then bobbed her head in an obvious 'come here'. “And here's my hero now!”

The man turned just as Alex arrived. He had a friendly grin, but she could see his eyes widen as she looked up at her. He wasn't a short man by any means, but her six-foot-two beat his – Alex guessed maybe five-foot-ten – by several inches. His eyes went wide for a second as Louise snuggled into Alex's body, then returned to normal as he immediately made the connection between Louise's words

“Having fun, sweetie?” Alex leaned into Louise and kissed the top of her head. She turned to the guy and smiled. “Hi... thanks for taking care of Ivy for me.”

The man smiled and nodded. “Sure. No problem. I guess you're the stick.” Alex caught the look in the man's eyes, and counted. _Three, two, one..._ And there his eyes went. Down to the cleavage window, then back up. When his eyes came back up, they collided with hers, and he blushed. Alex found it endearing. She shrugged, he shrugged, and it was all cool.

“Unt now iz zee time vee moost dahnce!” With that Louise tugged Alex back toward the dance floor. She gave the guy a wave goodbye and followed her partner. The music was frenetic and alive with energy, relying on the beat to provide the melody and little else. It was music designed solely to get you moving, not contemplate life or live or anything other than dancing. The two of them danced like there was no tomorrow and neither had a care in the world. Occasionally a man, or two men, or sometimes even other women, would enter their orbit. When that happened, the pair would become a trio, or a quartet, or even once a sextet for a time, but it was clear to everyone who watched them that Alex and Louise were there together and no one was getting between them.

What eventually got in between them was the sound of automatic weapons fire. Four men, each armed with sub-machine guns, dressed like what all the more-stylish video game mercenaries were wearing. They burst into the ship's dance club and fired over everyone's heads. On their way in, one of them smashed the butt of his weapon in the face of a man who didn't get out of the way in time.

Alex shoved Louise behind her. Kara's memories told her that this was classic operational methods for taking hostages when outnumbered. Blitz in loud, intimidate, and immediately apply physical violence while subduing the hostages to intimidate them into submission.

“Turn that shit off! Come out of that booth!” The lead merc shouted at the DJ. He didn't even look to see if he was being obeyed before turning to the crowd. “Everyone get down! Hands on your head. Cross your fucking ankles.”

“Alex?” Louise whispered. Alex could tell she was scared, but she wasn't as scared as the people around them. That was probably a good thing. Alex was thinking quickly. The fact that they weren't covering their faces? Probably a bad thing.

“Do what they say.” Alex shifted her vision up into the range of while she got to her knees. There were three more on the club deck. Two, maybe three – it was hard to tell because of the machinery – down in the engine room. There were two more up on the bridge, beating the heck out of the ship's captain and the navigational crew. And two maintaining position in the boats that brought them all here, alongside the Queen.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen!” The lead gunman began. “We are tonight's entertainment. We specialize in brutal acts of violence against those who do not do every fucking thing we tell them to do when we fucking tell them to do it!” The other gunmen strode slowly through the hostages, enforcing compliance with a kick or a shove. Each of them were being careful to look the hostages in the face, then consult a piece of paper in their hand. “You're probably thinking we're here to rob the place, and you're right. We're here for the cash reserve that the ship is required by law to carry as an active casino. We're also here to remove a specific individual whose parents I'm sure will be very grateful for her return. If your name isn't Siobhan Donnelly, all you need to do to get out of this alive is everything we tell you to do! If you do not do everything we tell you to do, we will _shoot you dead!_ ”

“Alex?” Louise whispered again. Alex turned to look at her and nodded. Louise immediately relaxed, but only slightly. “You were looking around?”

“Making sure I know where they all are on the ship.” Alex whispered back. She started numbering the gunmen, starting with the ones that were here in the club.

“There's more of them?”

“Yeah.” Their secretive conversation was disrupted when one of the gunman pressed his machine gun to the back of Alex's head. It would have been funny if it weren't for the possibility of a ricochet endangering the bystanders. Louise smirked anyway, and Alex loved her for it.

“Got her, boss.” Gunman Three yanked a thin redheaded woman dressed in a 1920s-flapper outfit to her feet.

“No talking.” The gunman, Gunman Four, nudged Alex with his weapon's muzzle, and Louise's smile got wider. “What's so funny, bitch?” Louise didn't respond, and the man got angry. “Answer me. What's so fucking funny?”

“First you told us not to talk. Now you want me to answer you. Which is it?” Louise smiled up at the man. From the look on her face, butter couldn't melt in her mouth.

The gunman hauled back, about to bring the butt of his weapon down on Louise, when Alex _moved_. Everyone in the room except for her became a statue. She was moving so quickly, reacting so quickly, that time seemed to slow.

She grabbed his weapon and threw it through the ship's side hull and into the ocean. Careful to not actually kill the man, Alex tossed the gunman bodily into his closest colleague, Gunman Three, hard enough to fracture bone when they both smash headlong into the club's marble-topped bar. Alex pulled at Gunmen One and Two, driving the two men together like she was cleaning chalkboard erasers. Their machine guns followed the first through the wall and into the ocean. Once all four men were unconscious, she took her time, relatively, while removing the knives and pistols they were all carrying. After some thought, Alex also destroyed all but one of their radios.

From start to finish, less than a second.

Alex took a deep breath, and suddenly everyone else in the room was moving at real-time speeds again. And panicking. It seemed like everyone but her and Louise were screaming. “Everyone? Everyone! Calm down!” It took a moment before everyone settled down and turned their attention to her. “I need you to stay calm, and more importantly stay here! I'll get rid of the gunmen on the other decks, but I need you folks to stay here where it’s safe.” She turned to the girl that the gunmen had been hunting. “Ms. Donnelly? Your name was Siobhan Donnelly?” At the girl's nod, Alex smiled. “Maybe you should hide behind the bar or something until it’s safe.”

The friendly guy who had been chatting up Louise stood, still shaking, and asked, “Um, no offense, but who, uh, who put you in charge?” Alex smiled at him and held up her fist, in which she was holding a pair of pistols. She crushed the weapons into a dull-colored ball while everyone watched, then dropped it to the deck at her feet. “Right! You're in charge!” The man said, his eyes lighting up. “You want us to just stay here, or should we find a better place to hide?”

“No, stay here. That way I know where you are. I'm going to take the others down and see what's going on with the ship. I'll talk to the Captain and get him to get us back to Miami.” She nudged one of the unconscious gunmen with a toe. “See if you can find some way to tie these assholes up, just in case the regain consciousness before next July. I'll be back soon.”

Alex met Louise's eyes. Her partner smiled, and blew her a kiss. Alex returned it, then headed out into the rest of the ship. Most of this deck, the club deck, was wide open space subdivided into large rooms. The restaurant, the club-slash-casino, and a small movie theater which thankfully was closed for the evening. Earlier she had noted the other three men in the restaurant, covering a handful of hostages.

She flew down the corridor, not making a sound, until she came to the restaurant's double doors. The gunmen had closed them, naturally, but a quick check with x-ray vision put the bad guys between her and the hostages. This was okay. They could shoot at her if they wanted as long as they didn't shoot the hostages. She took a deep breath before opening the doors as wide and as hard as she could without tearing them from their hinges.

“Hey, boys. Nice night for a walk, right?”

The three gunmen all spun toward her, taking their eyes from the hostages and putting them right where Alex wanted them: paying attention to her. Gunman One brought up his sub-machine gun and fired. Alex ignored the impact of the bullets and speared the weapon's magazine with her heat vision, and the gun abruptly hang-fired as a distinct _pop_ indicated the ammunition cooking off. The force of the bullet exploding wrecked the magazine, and sent small pieces of metal into the gunman himself, knocking him to the floor.

Before the other two could react, Alex was on them. She grabbed both by the shoulder and knocked their heads together, then dropped them. The radio she'd clipped to her belt squawked to life. A man's voice yelling _“What's that firing? Someone talk to me.”_ Alex ignored it. She turned the speaker's volume down to where she could still hear it, but no one else could without being right on top of her.

“Who – who are you?” It was one of the hostages, an older matronly woman who looked to be there with her son and his companion.

There was a response to the radio call. She listened with half an ear. _“Lead this is eight. Sounded like the firing came from the club deck.”_

“I'm here to help!” She poked her head out of the door to make sure the corridor was clear, then waved everyone over. “I need you to head into the nightclub. No matter what happens, stay there until someone from law enforcement comes in. I've got to take care of the rest of the bad guys, so I don't have time to watch over all of you.”

“We understand. Come, everyone.” The older woman motioned to the other diners, then shooed everyone down the corridor. Before leaving herself, the woman put a hand on Alex's arm. “Bless you, my dear.”

“Thanks.” Alex smiled after the lady – she'd gone from 'older woman' to 'lady' in Alex's mind with the thank you – and watched to make sure they made their way to safety.

 _“Six this is lead. We heard shots coming from your 20. What's your status?”_ Alex didn't see a need to pull a John MacLaine and play with them on the radio, so she kept silent. _“Six. Respond, Six.”_ Clearly, Six was lying unconscious in the nightclub. _“Eight, this is lead. Did you finish in the engine room?”_

_“Roger, lead. We're already topside, heading back to the boats.”_

Alex shook her head. “No, that doesn't sound ominous at all,” she muttered to herself. Using her x-ray vision, she could see the men going over the Queen's sides and returning to the smaller craft. Decisions, decisions. Figure out what they were doing into the engine room, or go after the small craft.

_“Roger. This mission is blown. Go to plan B. Assume we're being monitored. Radio silence.”_

There was no choice at all. Going after the bad guys might be satisfying, but she had a shipload of passengers to watch out for, and they could have done anything to the engines. Alex figured if she was lucky, the bad guys wrecked them. If she was unlucky? The engine room might be on fire, or worse rigged with explosives. Alex forced the door marked 'Crew Only Please' and entered the gangway down that would lead her into the maintenance areas of the ship, the galley, and the engine room. Alex followed her ears to find the engine room. The gigantic diesel-powered beasts were still chugging away, but there were yellow rope and four gray-wrapped packages at either end of each of the four engines. Memories from both Kara and Xander identified the ropes as det-cord, while the packages were shaped charges. Alex reached down to pick up the first when it exploded in her face.

As she watched, the directed explosion blew out the bottom of the boat and the engines fell, disappearing into the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Those same waters rushed in to replace them. Without really thinking about it, Alex powered through the rushing water and secured the pressure doors to the engine room. She bolted the toggles and waited as the ship settled around her to see if they were going to hold. They were designed to, in case of a hull breach and flooding, but –

They held. Nodding to herself, Alex dove out through the hole left by the explosion. She circled the ship, underwater, looking for more signs of damage. More signs that the _Caribbean Queen_ was taking on more water. It was sitting low, and had developed a distinct sternward list, and the ship wasn't going to be moving any time soon on its own, but it wasn't sinking any further. This was a good thing.

Alex breached the surface and flew to the ship's bridge. As she stepped through an exterior door into the control room, Alex called, “Captain, I'm – shit!” The only people on the bridge were messily dead. The gunmen had executed the crew and left the bodies where they lay. Gunshots to the head. Some of the crew weren't all that recognizable anymore. She needed to report this. Alex looked around for the ship's radio station, only to find it a smoking ruin. “So much for calling the coast guard.”

Alex sighed again. She'd have to tell the passengers gathered in the nightclub what was going on, then move the _Queen_ back to Miami herself. She rushed back through the ship to the nightclub, keeping to normal human speeds. And when she stepped through the door, she was hit across the shoulders by a bar stool. It bent around her.

The man who swung the bar stool was dressed like a Roman centurion. Alex rolled her eyes, shrugged out of the now wrecked stool's frame, and handed it back to him. He was sheepish. “Sorry, thought you were one of, you know.”

“Yeah, I got that. No problem.”

“Young lady,” It was the nice lady from the restaurant. “Are we sinking? We heard a loud explosion, then the ship tipped ever so slightly backward.”

“The ship is no longer sinking, but I'm afraid the engines are a loss. Also, the gunmen shot and killed the crew.” She looked around. No one was on their cell phones at the moment. “Does anyone have a cell phone?”

Most of the crowd, including Louise, put their hands up. “Great. Has anyone called for help?”

Several people responded, most with some variant of “Can't get a signal” or “No reception out here.”

“Anyone have a satellite phone? No. Well, damn. All right. I'm going to try and move us back into Port of Miami. It might get a little shaky, but I'm not going to let anything happen to any of you. I want you all to trust me when I say that. Your safety is my highest concern right now.” Alex met Louise's eyes. Her partner nodded at her, obviously trusting Alex completely. Alex took strength from Louise's confidence in her. “I'm not going to be moving us fast. I don't want to shake you guys up. The moment you have a signal, call 911 or the coast guard or something and tell them what's going on.”

“I don't want to be _that guy,_ ” It was Al Capone, the nice guy who'd been hitting on Louise. “But are you sure you can tow us back? I mean, I get that you're, like, a real-life superhero, but this boat has to weigh like a couple hundred tons, right?”

“I can handle it. I'm really strong.” Alex shrugged. “You know Thor? Of the Avengers? How strong he is?” There were more nods. “Yeah. I'm stronger than him. I'm like, Hulk strong. And I can fly, so don't worry.”

“Okay, cool.” The guy was beginning to look a little star-struck. “What do we call you?” At Alex's stare, the guy held his hands up. “I don't need your real name, but I'm going to have to tell the cops something if I call 911.”

“Superwoman.” It was Louise who said this. Of course, it was Louise. Of course, it had to be Louise. Traditionally, it was always Superman's girlfriend, Lois Lane, who gave the hero his public moniker. And here, her partner was doing it for her. “Her name is Superwoman.”

Alex smiled at her. She couldn't help it. Here she was, all by her lonesome, going to carry the Big Blue Boy Scout's legacy into a world that needed a symbol of incorruptibility. She wanted it. Alex flew up and out of the ship, and then entered the water. She centered herself beneath the _Caribbean Queen_ , and then gently pressed upward, lifting with her flight more than her raw strength. The ship rose, a little shaky at first, but eventually steadying. Alex scanned the horizon until she spotted the lights of Miami, thirty or forty miles away. She pushed the ship upward until she was clear of the ocean's roll. The sudden thought that she was carrying a cruise ship on her back caused her to grin.

“You will believe a man can fly!” Alex whispered, beginning the trip home. Within seconds she was humming, and then be-bopping, and then scatting the tune loudly as she flew the ship back to port. It was the tune. The superhero anthem. In her opinion, John Williams' masterpiece. _Superman!_

“bump-a-dump. bump-a-dump-bump-a-dump. bump-a-dump- bump-a-dump. bump-a-dump- bump-a-dump-bump-a-dump. Bump-a-dump-bump-a-dump-dump-a-dump. Bump-a-dump bum bum bum bump-a-dump-a-bum. BUMP-BADABAH! BUMP-BUMP-BADABAH! BUMP-A-DAH! BUMP-BUMP-BADA DAH! BUMP-A-DAH! BUMP-BUMP-BADABADA! BUMP-BUMP-BUH-DAH-DUMP! BUMP-BUMP-BUMP-BADA-BAH!”

It wasn't the greatest rendition of John Williams' _Superman_ theme that had ever been performed, but it might have been one of the most heartfelt. Alex never realized that she could be heard inside the ship, or that someone was using their cell phone to record her singing along to a tune in her head. Within a week, it would go viral on YouTube.

**XxxxxxX**

_Breaking overnight, a cruise ship was saved overnight by the same super-powered Samaritan whose good deeds amazed all of Miami-Dade County last week. When a band of heavily armed terrorists took over the cruise ship, killing the captain and crew and causing the ship to start sinking, this new superheroine, who calls herself Superwoman, lifted the rapidly sinking ship out of the water and flew it back to the Port of Miami. She then held the ship out of the water long enough for all one hundred and eight passengers to make it safety on shore before lowering the ship into the Port's waters again before flying off into the night sky. Police and local FBI agents have taken six of the terrorists into custody, but according to eye-witnesses, several more escaped. ___

___Action 10 News will bring you more, including exclusive interviews with the hostages saved by Miami's own super-heroine, later on Action 10 News in the Morning!___

 _ _ **XxxxxxX**__

 _ _“Alex, we could have done this in Miami. It’s warm in Miami.” Alex watched Louise shiver. Her partner had become acclimated to Miami quickly, and grew to love the warm weather. Charlotte, North Carolina was simply too cold to the brand new 'Floridian.'_ _

__“I'm too famous in Miami, remember? That's the entire point of doing this. I need to build a disguise. So people won't recognize me.” Alex stepped into the costume shop and looked around. Seemed to be the right place. “After this, I want to hit a wig shop, and an optometrist.”_ _

__“I can't believe you really think your plan is going to work. I mean, come on. You're planning on wearing a wig and a pair of glasses to disguise your identity. Why not a mask or a hood or something?”_ _

__“Tradition.” Alex lead her to the sales counter. “And it’s not just the wig and glasses. It’s a hole thing. I'll slouch, I'll stutter sometimes. Raise my voice a little, or make it nasal. Trust me! It worked for Christopher Reeve, it should work for me.”_ _

__“Who's Christopher Reeve?”_ _

__“Fantastic actor. Amazing actor. Totally under-appreciated. But he played Superman in the first really great superhero movie ever made back home.” Alex smiled at the guy behind the counter and leaned over just so. She smiled as the kid's eyes dipped downward, then snapped back up – then trailed downward again. “Hi there. I was hoping you could help me find something that will help me look, heavier. I mean, like chunkier. I've got a role in a low-budget independent movie, and I need to look like I'm about thirty, maybe forty pounds overweight. Can you help me?”_ _

__“Yeah! Sure. Follow me!” The kid took another look at the décolletage, then moved from behind the counter._ _

__“Anyway, he played Superman.” Alex said, continuing the conversation. “But he also played Clark Kent, Superman's alter ego. Superman was this tall, suave, smooth hero with a deep, confident voice. To play Clark Kent, Reeve changed his hairstyle, wore a nerdy pair of glasses, stuttered, slouched, raised his voice an octave, and wore clothes that were too big. And honestly it was like he was playing two characters entirely.”_ _

__“If you say so.” Louise obviously still had her doubts._ _

__“Trust me!” Alex shoved the padded bras out of the way. She so didn't need one of those. But the stomach and ass combination might work. She grabbed one of each. “Oh hey... what color for the wig? Red? Brown? How about jet black?”_ _

__Louise stared at her. “Go with red. It would look better with those eyes of yours.”_ _

__“What's the matter with my eyes?”_ _

__“They're robin's egg blue, Alex. They're gorgeous. And the red hair will make them stand out more.” Louise followed to the check-out. A quick sixty bucks later, and Alex had the first makings of her secret identity._ _

__“I still think you're going to look stupid, but I love you anyway. Want you to know that.”_ _

__“Why thank you, Louise. I appreciate it,” Alex responded, rolling her eyes._ _

__It took them an hour to find a wig shop, and then a second hour for Alex to finally choose a wig she liked. It was actual human hair, and she'd have to care for it like it was a head of hair, but she had it. The Lenscrafter was easier to find, and buying a set of frames with ineffective show-room lenses was child's play._ _

__Twelve hours later they were back in Miami. Louise stood outside the bathroom door as Alex puttered about inside. She didn't want her partner to see until everything was perfect._ _

__“Okay, I picked up this blouse-skirt combination yesterday. I think I'm going to be dressing up when I'm out and about as Alexandra. Not fancy, but, you know? Not a lot of t-shirts and jeans.” Alex called through the door. “Though occasionally. Nothing slutty. Alexandra Harris doesn't do slutty. She's too shy for it.”_ _

__“You do realize that you're talking about yourself in third person, right?” Louise called through the door. Alex chuckled at it. She made the last adjustments on the coppery wig and sighed, studying herself in the mirror. She glanced in the sink, which was not full of her hair; she'd cut it short and hoped Louise wouldn't freak about it. She loved her long hair, too, but realized it was for a good cause. One last look-over, and she put the glasses, with their wide, friendly-looking oval lenses, on her face. “Now or never,” she said to herself._ _

__Alex decided to go the band-aid route and swung the door open fiercely. Louise looked up from where she was leaning across the hall, then stopped, mouth agape. “Okay, what's wrong? I thought I got it looking okay.” Alex brought a hand up to her face, then the wig. “What?”_ _

__“No, it looks – You look amazing. You look nothing like yourself!” Louise into a hug while Alex beamed at her. “Seriously, when you said you were going to try and pull this off with nothing more than a wig and glasses and body language – Alex, wow!” Louise did a slow walk around Alex, examining everything. “It’s like you're not as tall. And you can't tell in that skirt and that blouse how muscular you are. You're wearing those pads, so you look a little frumpier.” Louise came back around to Alex's front and kissed her. “Your face looks different because of the glasses, and the way you styled that wig, it’s not your usual hair-do. If I didn't know it was you, I'd be fooled.”_ _

__“Well, that's sort of the...” Alex trailed off as Louise began to stare into the bathroom. At the sink, specifically._ _

__“Alex, what did you do?” She rushed past Alex and grabbed the handfuls and handfuls of gloriously blonde hair laying within them. “You cut your hair short? But you loved your hair! I thought...”_ _

__“It was time for a change.” Alex shrugged. “No one will connect a short-haired blonde with a long-haired redhead. And it makes wearing the wig easier.”_ _

__“Right. That makes sense.” Louise nodded. “And you can always grow it back out if you change your mind.” Louise carefully gathered the lost hair. “I'm keeping this, though.”_ _

__“You hate it don't you. Liked me with long hair better?”_ _

___Alex watched Louise sigh. “Hey, what can I say. I have a thing for women with long hair. It’s a turn on for me.” Louise gave Alex a long look. “Tell you what. Let's go get lunch, then catch a movie or something. I don't feel like sitting around. And it'll let me get used to your new look.”_

**XxxxxxX**

**Transcript of the Monsters in the Morning radio show, WTKS FM, Orlando, Florida, November 11, 2006.**  
 **Host Russ Rollins. Co-Hosts James “Dirty Jim” Colbert, Daniel Dennis, and Tom “Drunky the Bear” Vann.**  
 **Special Guest: Superwoman.**

__TOM “DRUNKY THE BEAR” VANN: _Now, don't take this the wrong way, but are Karen Starr, the same girl we saw on YouTube kicking the Avengers ass all over a California beach last month?__ _

__JAMES “DIRTY JIM” COLBERT: _Drunky, I'm sure that's exactly what she wants to do on a nationally syndicated radio program. Admit that she's a fugitive.__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _No, it’s okay. To answer the question, yes and no. I'm not Karen Starr. From what I can tell, Karen Starr was a girl who looked just like me, and when they tried to ID me after the fight, they connected the two of us. But I'm not Karen Starr.__ _

__DANIEL DENNIS: _Our government at work, folks.__ _

__(everyone laughs)_ _

__DANIEL DENNIS: _Are you keeping a secret identity then? You know they can't hear it when you nod.__ _

__(everyone laughs)_ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Yep. Despite what it looks like, I'm actually a pretty private person. Ooh. Pretty private person. Yay for alliteration! I'll be honest, I try to keep my private life private and my public life, well, figure it out. I'm here.__ _

__DIRTY JIM: _So why were they serving a no-knock on you?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _You'd have to ask SHIELD. All I know is that the reason they were serving the no-knock warrant on the house I was staying at was bogus. So as far as I know, I'm legally in the clear right now. At least the Miami-Dade police and the Dade County Sheriffs, and even the FDLE have been friendly and cooperative.__ _

__RUSS ROLLINS: _Like a couple of days ago, when you helped them catch that guy in the truck. The guy smuggling the heroine?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Right. Or the pirates who tried to take the cruise ship.__ _

__RUSS ROLLINS: _They just burst into your bedroom while you were sleeping, you said? That must have been a big surprise.__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Yep. Sentry came crashing right through my ceiling. If I hadn't already pushed my girlfriend out into the hall, she'd probably been hurt by falling wreckage. It was intense.__ _

__DRUNKY THE BEAR: _Wait! You just said girlfriend? As in girlfriend, girlfriend? You're a lesbian? Why didn't anyone tell me that the hot chick with superpowers was a lesbian?__ _

__(everyone laughs)_ _

__DIRTY JIM: _I'm afraid you might have just burst a couple of Drunky's more exotic fantasies.__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Or added to a couple of them.__ _

__DANIEL DENNIS: _That too!__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _But for the record, yep, the hot chick with superpowers is gay.__ _

__RUSS ROLLINS: _This might be the first time in history a superhero has come out of the closet on a morning radio show. We're making history here, folks! Someone call the Guinness Book of Records!__ _

__(everyone laughs)_ _

__RUSS ROLLINS: _So I guess you're comfortable with yourself enough so that it doesn't bother you if other people know you're gay, then?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Hey, it’s really nobody's business but my own, but no, I don't mind. It’s just a part of who I am.__ _

__DRUNKY THE BEAR: _You mentioned a girlfriend, earlier. Your seeing someone?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _I am. I'm a committed monogamous relationship with a beautiful woman who I love more than my own life, so yeah.__ _

__DIRTY JIM: _My Lord, look at her eyes. The girl's in love.__ _

__RUSS ROLLINS: _I think that's cool. Seriously, I think that's fantastic, that you've got someone you can say that about.__ _

__DIRTY JIM: _I gotta be honest with you, I don't know too many superheroes, ya know? I mean, I met the Human Torch once at this radio thing, but he lives a public life anyway so he doesn't count. Anyway, I'd imagine that it’s hard to keep a relationship going with all that sort of weird pressure and all you get from being a superhero. I mean, imagine setting up for a quiet candlelight dinner at home and then suddenly it’s like, 'Honey, I've got to go punch out Doctor Doom. Let's rain-check this.'__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Well, I'm not going to say it hasn't caused stress – in fact, I almost had that exact scenario happen once, minus the Doctor Doom part – but luckily, she's really supportive. And every part of my life that's not helping other people and, you know, stopping crime and natural disasters and things, it’s all about her.__ _

__DRUNKY: _I take it you don't want to give anybody her name.__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _A world of no!_ (laughs) _I mean, I know she's listening, so when I say, 'Honey I love you, see you this afternoon for lunch,' she knows I'm talking to her, but I'm not going to just say, 'Mary, this one's for you.' And before you ask, no...__ _

__DRUNKY THE BEAR: _...her name ain't Mary.__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Right. It’s not even close to Mary.__ _

__DIRTY JIM: _So, you ready for the Official Monsters in the Morning List of Difficult and Awkward Questions to Be Asked at All Celebrity Interviews?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: (laughs) Hit me._ _

__DIRTY JIM: _Who’s the most famous person other than yourself that you've ever met, and what was your opinion of them.__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _That would probably be Magneto. And he was polite. I mean, all about the old school European charm. I imagine meeting him is what meeting Ian McKellan would be like. Or Colin Firth or one of those guys. You know, the classy British guys.__ _

__DRUNKY: _You met Magneto? Wow. Did you guys fight?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Nope. Had breakfast.__ _

__RUSS ROLLINS: _You had breakfast with Magneto? How'd that happen?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _He wanted to recruit me into his Mutant Liberation thing. I'm sympathetic, but I'm not a mutant. Besides, I don't have time to be a terrorist right now. Anyway, he invited me to breakfast to talk about it. It was a good breakfast, actually.__ _

__RUSS ROLLINS: _Huh. Well... go ahead, Jimmy. I don't think the next question's going to be as serious.__ _

__DIRTY JIM: _Indeed it isn't, sir. Are you a natural blonde? Does the carpet match the drapes?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Yep._ (laughs) _Though, uh, there's not all that much carpet. I keep a little landing strip and that's it. My partner likes it that way. She doesn't like, you, know, 80s porn hair, but she's not into completely bald, either, so...__ _

__DIRTY JIM: _Really? That's so hot.__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: (Laughing) _I do try.__ _

__DIRTY JIM: _Favorite color?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Green.__ _

__(a pause as they stare at her costume)_ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Oh come on guys, don't stare at the costume like that. Just because I like green doesn't mean I have to wear it all the time. Besides, there's a reason I picked these colors.__ _

__DRUNKY: _And the S is for Superwoman, right?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: (sighs) _If I had a dollar for every time I was asked this. Yes, the S is for Superwoman. Well, not just Superwoman, but that's all I'm explaining. There's another reason for that, too, but, let's just go with its not just for Superwoman.__ _

__DIRTY JIM: _Favorite Bond?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Connery, duh.__ _

__DIRTY JIM: _Favorite Band?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _I don't know. I'm eclectic. Nerf Herder? Cibo Matto. Foo Fighters.__ _

__DANIEL DENNIS: _Wow. Flash me back to 90s indie club rock. Nerf Herder?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _I'm also a huge Garth Brooks fan, if that counts for anything. Patsy Cline. And I like the occasional NWA and Public Enemy joint.__ _

__DRUNKY: _Old school.__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: (laughs) _Yeah, old school.__ _

__DIRTY JIM: _And for the last question, can you name a person you be willing to have sex with, but only if you were paid a million dollars?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: (laughing) _Wow. My partner is going to hate this. You're getting me in trouble, you know that, right?__ _

__RUSS ROLLINS: _Oh, does she get jealous?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _No, not really. (laughs) It’s just we don't need the million, so if I answer --__ _

__DRUNKY: _Wait, you don't need the million?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Nope._ (laughs) _Make of it what you will.__ _

__DRUNKY: _Look out everybody, she's not just a lesbian hot chick with superpowers, she's a hot rich chick with superpowers.__ _

__RUSS ROLLINS:_ _

__SUPERWOMAN: (sighs) _Okay, I admit it, all right? I admit it. I come from money. As the saying goes, I earned my money the old-fashioned way.__ _

__RUSS ROLLINS: _Rich parents?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _You got it.__ _

__RUSS ROLLINS: _How do they feel about you becoming a superhero?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _They're not in the picture anymore. They're both gone now.__ _

__RUSS ROLLINS: _Oh lord, they're both dead? Well, I feel like a now.__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Don't worry. I'm okay. Time heals all wounds, you know?__ _

__DIRTY JIM: _So, back to the question. Can you name a person you be willing to have sex with, but only if you were paid a million dollars?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: (laughing) _How about I just pass on this question.__ _

__DRUNKY THE BEAR: _I've got a separate question for ya. What's with the, uh... (points)__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _The boob window?_ (laughs)_ _

__DRUNKY THE BEAR: (laughing) _Yeah, we'll call it that. The boob window. What's up with it.__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Well, multiple things. First, as you can already tell, I'm not exactly shy and retiring, right? And yeah, there's a reason for the boob window other than just to show the girls off. Not that I'm not proud of the girls and all, but yeah, there's a reason. A personal reason. And, uh, I'm just going to leave that there. But on top of everything else, if people are looking at my they're not paying attention to my face. It helps hide my identity.__ _

__DIRTY JIM: _You've got implants, then?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: (laughing) _Oh wow, you know, you're hardly the first person to ever ask me that. I mean it. But no, these puppies are all mine. 100% natural.__ _

__DIRTY JIM: _Do, uh, do you mind if we ask – ah – how to do this delicately – what exactly is your – (makes a gesture)__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _I'm a 40-H. And if any of the bra manufacturers out there are listening, I just want to say thanks for nothing. You know how hard it is to find a bra in that size that's anything other than either the flat white granny-style or the porn-star special? There is a middle ground, guys.__ _

__(everyone laughs)_ _

__DANIEL DENNIS: _On a more serious note, we all watched you on the news yesterday, with that girl on the ledge? Personally, I think that was great, you talking to her like that. Is she doing okay?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _As far as I've heard, she'd doing fine. She's going to get some counseling, seek out some assistance. I really hope she keeps her chin up.__ _

__DIRTY JIM: _So who’s the toughest villain you've fought so far?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Um, technically I haven't fought any villains yet. Out of the Avengers, though? Sentry's a bad ass. He's almost as strong as I am. Wonder Man's pretty tough too, though I heard from someone later that he's really a nice guy. It was all a huge misunderstanding.__ _

__DIRTY JIM: _So nothing bad about the Avengers, then?__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Well, Captain Marvel's a total . Can I say on the radio?__ _

__RUSS ROLLINS: _Not technically, but we're running on a delay, so it'll get bleeped out.__ _

__SUPERWOMAN: _Okay, in that case yeah, Captain Marvel is a complete and total and I am so glad I kicked her ass. Twice.__ _

__DIRTY JIM: _Don't hold back, now... tell us how you really feel?__ _

__(everyone laughs)__

 _ _ **XxxxxxX**__

 _ _Cain Marko couldn't help but laugh at the opposition lined up against him. The usual collection of police – both regular and SWAT. They weren't worth bothering about. He knew this was going to be an easy job when he hired on for it; he knew that Tampa wasn't known for its superheroes. The police were simply outgunned when it came to him. They didn't call him the Juggernaut for nothing. Something he hadn't known about Tampa, on the other hand, was that it was one of the hubs for the diamond trade in the United States. Hence his current presence in the city._ _

__The job itself had been simple. He had burst through the wall of a diamond vault, filled an empty safety deposit drawer with as many of the stones as he could, and then simply walked out. The police had shot at him as usual – they were still shooting at him, in fact – but he ignored it as usual. Now it was merely a matter of –_ _

__“Wow! This is so cool!”_ _

__Marko slowed, but did not stop. There was no point in stopping, after all. But he slowed so he could try and get a look at the girl – it was a girl's voice – who had moved close enough to speak to him without his seeing her. For the umpteenth time, he cursed the fact that, in his 'work clothes', he couldn't turn his head for shit. Slowing down, moving his eyes around, and occasionally turning in place had to do the job for him. There was a girl floating in the air in front of him, dressed in a blue and red outfit, with a free flowing red cape. She was blonde, looked to be around 20, and was muscled like an athlete. His eyes almost automatically traveled to a carefully positioned hole in her top that showed an impressive amount of cleavage._ _

__“I mean, I have to tell you, when I pictured my first real fight with a supervillain as an active hero, I never thought it would be with you. I mean, wow. You're like, a legend!”_ _

__The Juggernaut grunted, but didn't answer. She was just a distraction, like most so-called superheroes. There was no way she could stop him, so he just kept walking. His plan was to evade pursuit by walking into Tampa Bay, then crossing it under the water. He had an appointment with a fence in Chicago in a week._ _

__“So, uh, I guess before we get started with this fight – I mean, I was hoping I could ask you a couple of questions.” The girl was still talking. He rolled his eyes at her. She was just floating here, flying backward at the same pace he was moving. But he had to admit, she was pretty. And the thing with the questions was new._ _

__“What questions?” He was surprised. He'd responded before he knew he was going to._ _

__“Oh! Cool. Well, for one, I was wondering just how you thought you were going to escape? I mean, not to toot my own horn here, but I can move pretty quickly and you really, really can't. At least not in comparison. I figure I can follow you pretty much anywhere. I can hold my breath for hours and hours, so if you're planning on ditching the cops by heading for the bay, that just won't work against me.” Inside his helmet, Marko frowned. The fact that she'd figured out his plan was worrisome. And if what she said was true, she might be more of an annoyance than he thought. “Also, have you ever considered that there's really nothing stopping me from following you to whoever is going to fence those diamonds and making trouble for _them_ even if I can't stop you, you know?”_ _

__Marko laughed at that. The girl was creative, he'd give her that._ _

__“Little girl,” he said finally. “Why don't you just move along. You apparently know who I am, so you know you can't stop me. All you're going to do is get yourself hurt.” He hated fighting girls. Not that he wouldn't fight a girl, but he didn't like doing it. And in response, she giggled at him. Giggled! At him, the Juggernaut. Still giggling, she backed up a half-dozen yards or so and dropped to the ground in front of him. On the ground, he had some perspective and realized that she was probably over six feet tall. Not that it mattered, given that he was a couple of inches over seven feet now, but tall women always impressed him._ _

__“Okay.” She shook her head, still laughing. “I don't really figure this is going to work, but I just have to try it, okay?” Again, he rolled his eyes at her. He watched as the girl visibly braced herself in front of him; it was his time to laugh. They always tried this. It never worked, but they always tried this. The came together, inexorably, and to Marko's surprise, he stopped dead in his tracks. One second, two seconds – he could feel himself slip forward, but it was incredibly gradual. Her arms started shaking. Five seconds, six seconds – the girl gritted her teeth as she slipped back a fraction of an inch. Nine seconds, ten seconds – and then to Cain Marko's relief the girl was moving backward. It was slow, and she was digging into the ground with her feet, but it was happening._ _

__“Well, shit! I thought that might actually be working for a minute.” The girl didn't seem tired, just frustrated. Cain laughed at her. He blinked as a bullet that he _thought_ was meant for him careened off her into his chest, where it pinged into the sky. He made note of it. She was strong, and apparently as hard to hurt as he was. It occurred to him that this might be bad._ _

__“Okay then, we'll try something else.” In a heartbeat, she vanished. Literally, one moment she was there, the next she wasn't. Marko gave himself a shrug and keeps walking. He figured he couldn't be more than a couple of blocks away from the bay by now._ _

__He'd just started daydreaming about that beach house in Fiji he was planning on buying with the diamond money when the train hit him. The force of the impact rocked him back on his heels, and for the second time in a single day he was stopped cold in his tracks. His ears rang from the impact, and everything went blurry for a second._ _

__When his vision cleared, there was the girl. She was picking herself up off the ground at his feet. He looked down at her, wondering how the hell she got there, when he noticed the huge dent in his chest armor._ _

__“Okay, that worked a bit better, but still not well enough.” She was dusting herself off as if absolutely nothing had just happened. His ears were still ringing, and the little bitch wasn't even dazed?” She looked up at him as he growled at her. “Okay, time to think outside the box.”_ _

__“Sure, girly, whatever.” He swiped at her with a fist that was larger than her entire head, and to his great surprise, she caught it. And not just caught it, but _casually_ caught it, as if it wasn't any great trouble to do so._ _

__“Thanks! It’s so thoughtful, giving me a present like that. I even love the color!” With that, she twisted his wrist in place, spinning him bodily through the air. He slammed head-first into the tarmac, his head burying itself, before the rest of his body fell to the ground. He scrambled back to his feet in no time; he was surprisingly fast for a man his size. And there she was, floating in the air, holding his crate of diamonds._ _

__“Ta dah!” The girl waved the crate of diamonds at him while she hung in the air just out of his reach. She crowed. She was smug. She was making fun of him. And she had the right to be. If he didn't get away with the diamonds, there was no point to the exercise at all. He jumped at her, but again she vanished into thin air. In a moment, she reappeared, empty-handed. “Now that's out of the way, let's see what I can do about you, huh?”_ _

__“Where'd you take my diamonds?” He gruffed at her. Marko was sure she wasn't going to answer, but to his surprise she did._ _

__“They weren't your diamonds, Juggie. I took them back to their owner. Now, we going to do this, or --”_ _

__“Shut up.” Her voice stopped as he swung at her again. The girl ducked aside from his first punch, then his second punch. On his third, she pushed his arm out of line. It only confirmed his shocked realization that she was stronger than he was. So far in his life, he'd only met one person who was that much stronger, and that person was huge, green, and really, angry all the time. This girl was tall and muscular, sure, but she didn't look like she should be this strong._ _

__She blocked one last punch before returning it, and the impact of her fist on his helmet was enough to cause an entire carillon of bells to ring in his head. There' was an odd pinching around one side of his face, and he started in shock that his helmet was dented to the point that it restricted his movement._ _

__“Hey, I just had a thought.” She blocked two more punches before again slamming her fist into his head. Again, the dome-like helmet dented, and from the inside he could see the hint of light along one of the seams. “Once you get started, you can't be stopped easily, right? But what if I do this?” Before Marko could react, she danced around him and delivered a kick to the middle of his back, propelling him along the course he was already moving. The force of the kick felt like his spine was about to rupture, and as he bounced along the ground like a stone skipping across water, he honestly wondered to himself how it was that no one who’s ever fought him thought to do that before._ _

__She was right there on top of him when he came to a stop. “Hey, that worked pretty well. How about this?” The girl hooks a toe beneath him, and kicked him upward. Suddenly the Juggernaut found himself in the air, in a spin. Every half-second or so, his view alternated between earth and sky. The motion began to make him nauseous. And she was there again suddenly, meeting him in mid-air. “So, now we know how to take care of the Juggernaut. Bye, Mr. Marko. Don't come back.”_ _

__He could feel the girl grab him by the ankle with both hands, and suddenly he was spinning like a top. Faster, and faster, and faster, and faster. His head clogged as the blood rushed to it, and he grayed out. He couldn't help it. Within a second, he had puked up the beef stroganoff he had at the Russian place in Saint Petersberg before the job. It splattered around inside the remains of his helmet, coating his face, his neck, his hair..._ _

__And then he was floating weightless. He kept his eyes closed, still fighting the nausea. It was a long while before the dizziness went away, and until then he couldn't think straight, but eventually, his head cleared. He's was still spinning. He could feel that he was still spinning. Behind his eyelids, his field of vision was bright-dark-bright-dark. He opened his eyes to see the earth flash beneath him, then a sky full of stars, then the earth, then the stars. _Holy shit! I'm in orbit!_ He thought to himself. He recognized the Atlantic Ocean beneath him as his spin began to slow from the constant tugging of the Earth's gravity._ _

__As the Juggernaut re-entered the atmosphere, on a ballistic course that would eventually end somewhere in the Sahara Desert, he thought, _This is really going to suck.___

 _ _ **XxxxxxX**__

 _ _When it happened, it took Tony Stark completely by surprise. He was standing at the helicarrier's command pedestal one moment, the next he was rolling across the floor toward the great floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the command center's front wall._ _

__SHIELD had been tasked by the Justice Department, the Department of Homeland Security, the Department of Metahuman Affairs, and the Department of Defense to 'put a leash,' to use the Vice-President's lovely phrasing, on the new crime-fighting phenomenon that had been making a splash in Florida and the entire south-eastern United States. This whirlwind of justice apparently hadn't so much as waved in the general direction of registering, and yet she operated with impunity. And since none of the usual methods of apprehension and interdiction were available (the Avengers were still mostly rebuilding from the disastrous fight with Karen Starr, and the less said about the Thunderbolts the better), it was up to SHIELD._ _

__Tony Stark had his doubts. He suspected he knew very well who this 'Superwoman' would end up being, and he really wasn't looking forward to this. But he was the director of SHIELD now, as well as being Iron Man, and had a responsibility to see the directives given him from on high carried out._ _

__The helicarrier lurched suddenly, tipping dangerously toward its bow. Everyone not strapped in and everything not attached to the hull, across the massive vehicle, was thrown forward as momentum carried them along. The shrieking of metal and shattering glass could be heard everywhere across the helicarrier. It was as if someone has stomped on the craft's metaphorical brakes, or maybe like someone ran a car into a tree. Which was silly. Given the helicarrier's mass, it took close to a thousand yards for it to slow from flank speed to a dead stop, but that's precisely what happened here. And there weren’t any obstacles tall enough for them to run into here._ _

__All around Stark, the crew desperately responded to emergency calls: damage reports, injury reports, panicked questions from the other decks. He climbed to his feet, feeling shaky himself. A quick look outside told him that several of the smaller aircraft strapped down on the launch deck were now missing. He hoped no one was thrown clear of the helicarrier, but at this point there was no way to tell._ _

__“Set engines to null. Station keeping only,” Stark ordered as he returned to the command pedestal. “I can hear the engines beginning to whine and its only getting worse, so might as well stop them from burning up. Someone get me a comprehensive damage report.” He dabbed at his face, where a trickle of blood was falling from his nose. “And someone get me a paper towel or something.”_ _

__His commands were followed immediately. Stark tapped on the flat screen console as he wiped the blood from his face. He was looking for answers, but there weren't any. The security cameras were showing all sorts of damage: lab equipment tossed about, the hangars and storerooms in disarray, personal quarters in ruins. Some sort of hull breach in the prow of the aircraft. But no sign of a cause anywhere._ _

__“All right. I'm stepping outside. Agent Coulson, you're in command until I get back.” He'd taken a couple of steps toward the elevator, when one of the tech specialists in the pit called out._ _

__“Director Stark! Look!” He followed the pointing arm to the bow windows. There, floating three feet above the deck and looking really, really pissed off, was a statuesque blonde in a red and blue suit. Her cape billowed out behind her in the intense wind. As he watched, the woman grinned and raised a single finger and waggled it at him. It took Stark a moment to realize that this was Alexandra Harris, the former Karen Starr. Murdered two years ago by her father, and resurrected with the power of a god._ _

__“Looks like my suspicions of the mysterious new hero were right,” he murmured to himself. “She went from Power Girl to Superwoman. There's got to be something Freudian in that.” He sighed, knowing that this situation could get out of control quickly._ _

__What happened next was too surreal to be believed. Harris took her upraised finger and dragged it down the transparent metal that made up the windows, leaving a deep gouge. The sound her fingernail made tore through every agent on the bridge. They collectively winced as their teeth began aching. Stark stared as, slowly, the gouges the young woman was putting in the helicarrier's front windows – windows that were made of transparent duranium and not glass – began to spell out words. When she was finished, there were fewer than three windows unscathed, but the message could be read clearly._ _

___GO HOME NOW OR I WILL CRASH YOU._ _ _

__Stark thought about it, then hit a control on his console activating the ship-wide PA system, including the exterior speakers. “Nice to see you again. We should talk. Would you care to step inside? We can talk about California, Florida, SHIELD, the Avengers. Maybe the discuss the cost of having those scratches buffed out of our unbreakable metal windows.”_ _

__She hung in the air, just staring at Stark, before finally nodding. Stark pointed to his left, her right, and the nearest doorway into the bridge from the outside. When she left for the door, he turned to the navigation team. “Back us up a mile and a half. Make sure we are nowhere near Florida airspace for now.”_ _

__“Sir?”_ _

__“Just do it, okay? There's a very good chance that we all could die in the next few minutes when that woman takes down this multi-billion-dollar weapon system we're all riding in.”_ _

__“Oh come on, Mister Stark. I wouldn't let you die.” And there she was. Alexandra L. Harris, fugitive-turned-folk hero in all her glory. “Hello, Tony. All healed up, I see. Sorry about the leg.”_ _

__“Yes, well, no hard feelings. Believe it or not the downtime was good for me. Very productive, and it gave me an excuse to wear cut-offs all the time.” He took in her costume, stopping his gaze for a moment right where he was sure she planned on his gaze stopping. When he looked back at her face, she was smirking. Absolutely, the reaction she was looking for. The cleavage window was obviously intentional._ _

__“Nice suit.” He said. “And you're going by Superwoman now? Not Power Girl?”_ _

__“My girlfriend's idea.”_ _

__“Right. I like it. It pops. And the suit is fantastic. Very striking. Love the cape. Speaking of the girlfriend, how is, uh –” Tony Stark didn't want to antagonize her by spilling their identities to the other agents._ _

__“Lady Clairol? She's doing well. Thinking about starting classes at the University of Miami.” Harris grinned, obviously proud. “She's talking about going into law school, if you can believe it. Who knows. Might take a class or two myself.”_ _

__“Good for you. So... let's talk. Can we talk?”_ _

__“Absolutely we can talk.” Harris looked around. “It’s like this. I want you to pack up your toys and your stormtroopers and your prejudicial Nazi bullcrap and go home. I'm not going to let you throw innocent people in prison for the rest of their lives just for the crime of wanting to help. Your authority to enforce the Registration Act in Florida is revoked. You can come in if there's an authentic chemical weapon attack, or if Hydra is blitzing Disney World, or if there's something I can't handle by myself and I give you a call for help, but if you're just here to arrest people for saving lives and stopping crime, you can go home now.”_ _

__“Just like that?” He was amused at the balls on this girl, but there was no way she really thought it would be that easy, was there?_ _

__“Yeah, just like that. You're not welcome in Florida anymore. SHIELD isn't welcome in Florida anymore. Neither are the Avengers. If you don't leave my state immediately, I will leave every man and woman here into the middle of the Okefenokee, then land this bucket of bolts on Mars. If I'm feeling generous when I get there, it will be right side up when I land it.”_ _

__“You'll – really? Mars? Can you even do that?”_ _

__She stared at him for a moment, and Stark realized that she was quite intimidating. “Is this craft airtight and pressurized?”_ _

__“Well, yeah. Why?”_ _

__“Want me to take you now?”_ _

__What? I mean, uh, no, that's okay.” He shuddered at the thought. “Look, I realize that implementation of the Registration Act was a bit slipshod in the past, but –”_ _

__“Slipshod?” Harris laughed in his face. “Mr. Stark, did you know that your predecessor, Director Hill, apparently tried to arrest Captain America for the supposed 'crime' of refusing to arrest and imprison people who had not been found guilty of any crime? And that she did this before the Registration Act went into effect?”_ _

__“Uh.”_ _

__“I'll assume that means no.” She shook her head at him. “Did you know that nowhere in the text of the Registration Act does it say, 'All people with metahuman powers must work for the government as an Avenger or go to prison,' regardless of how fascists like you and Gyrich interpreted it? Neither is there language criminalizing the use of super-powers in any way outside of crime-fighting activity?”_ _

__“Hey, I'm not a fascist.”_ _

__“Oh, yes you are. Think about this. I can fly under my own power. Even if I had no other powers and was not interested in crime-fighting, the way you and Heinrich von Gyrich interpreted the SRA said that my taking to the air just because I enjoyed flying meant I had to become an Avenger or go to jail for the _rest of my fucking life_. Don't stand there and tell me you're not a fascist. You've wiped your ass with the US Constitution and have imprisoned people without due process. That's Nazi-level fascist bullshit right there.” Harris glared. “And Mister Stark, rest assured that the nanosecond I find out where the access to your little gulag is located, I'm getting them all out and letting them all go.”_ _

__“Now wait a damned minute. You can't just unilaterally ignore a Federal law.” Stark was sympathetic, but the law was the law, and you couldn't pick and choose which law you'd follow._ _

__“Oh really? You mean like how you and the rest of your gestapo are ignoring Article One, Section Ten of the United States Constitution?” At his blank look, she smirked. “Do you know what a bill of attainder is, Mister Stark? I do. I looked it up. A bill of attainder is a law makes it a crime for a certain type of person to exist. Like, say, a law that makes being red-headed a crime. Or a law that made being left-handed a crime. Or, just for let's pretend, a law that made being an asshole alcoholic billionaire control freak douche bag inventor in a tin suit a crime. Or how about this, Mr. Stark. Ever heard of the Thirteenth Amendment? Here's what it says. _Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as punishment for a crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted shall exist within the United States or any place subject to their jurisdiction._ I looked that one up too. And that's what your little law is about. Slavery.”_ _

__“Nonsense! That's not what –”_ _

__“Don't you ‘nonsense’ me! That's exactly what you're doing. First you make it a crime for superhumans to exist, then you tell them that the only way to avoid going to prison for the rest of their lives if to allow themselves to be enslaved.”_ _

__She straightened, which surprised Tony because he hadn't realized she'd been slouching slightly. Standing tall, she towered over him. “I am unilaterally declaring Florida a free state. I am defending the Constitution, something you swore an oath to do when you took government office, I might point out.”_ _

__“But you can't –”_ _

__“Oh, can't I? What are you going to do, send in the army to catch one person? Drop a nuke on Miami hoping I won't survive it? _Send Bullseye after me again?_ ” She grabbed him by his lapels one-handed and lifted him into the air. All around them, SHIELD agents were drawing their weapons. “Here's what's about to happen. I'm going to leave. When I've left, you're going to turn this crate around or so help me God I will knock it out of the sky and into space. If I need your help, I'll ask for it. Until then, stay in New York.”_ _

__“I can't – we have a warrant. For you.” He glanced past her at the SHIELD agents, all of whom were pointing their weapons at her. “Hey, guys? Guys? Stand down. Put them down. You'd just piss her off anyway.” Reluctantly, the people surrounding the two of them followed his orders. “Like I was saying. We have a warrant for your arrest.”_ _

__“Charges?”_ _

__“Violating the Metahuman Registration – why are you laughing?” And she was. Not a giggle, but an outright roar of laughter._ _

__“Stark, you do remember I'm registered, right? I know it’s been seven months, but Jesus, you guys do keep records, right?”_ _

__“Uh –” Stark looked around and found Phil Coulson with his eyes. He shot the senior agent a 'help me out here' glare._ _

__“Sir, she is registered. Her records need updating, obviously, since she's going by a new code name, but she isn't actually in violation.” Coulson cleared his throat. “She might be delinquent in reporting for training, but the punishment for that is merely a fine._ _

__Stark stared at Coulson. “You mean we're here on a bogus warrant?”_ _

__“Oh man, I am going to just own you guys, you know that? I can't wait for my lawyer to hear about this.”_ _

__“Yeah, well, there is the matter of the three Federal agents you killed in Los Angeles.”_ _

__“Oh please. First, Mr. Stark, somehow I doubt there's any actual paperwork anywhere that made Bullseye, the Radioactive Man, and Venom federal agents in any formal sense. I'm also sure that if I looked hard enough, I could find arrest warrants for all three of them that were active when I – when they died, rather. I'm even more sure that, with Bullseye, I can find at least one government who has issued a 'dead or alive' bounty for his ass. You put me in front of a jury and they'll be dying to exonerate me for putting him in the ground. So, don't talk to me about government agents.”_ _

__“Besides, how many people have you killed, Mr. Stark? Either directly or indirectly? How many of your former friends have died because they disagreed with the great Anthony Howard Stark about the Registration Act? How many times are you a murderer?” When he didn't reply, she continued. “Should I start your count at Bill Foster? Saw the funeral on TV. Quite impressive, digging a grave for a man who was forty-five feet tall. And he was one of your friends, right?”_ _

__Stark couldn't say anything. There was nothing to say._ _

__“Yeah, I thought so. Go back to Washington and have another drink, Tony. Tell your friends that Florida is covered. I'm handling it. I've got actual world-saving to do. Actual people to help. I'm not interested in your dick-waving contest with Captain America. You're just getting in my way.”_ _

__He opened his mouth to speak, but she overrode him. “One last thing, Tony. It might occur to you to try and fuck with me by using my real identity, or come at me by fucking with my partner, since you know who we both are. I want you to keep something in mind before you do that: some of the heroes who fight at your side keep their real names and jobs and where they live a secret, but I know who they all are. I know the real names of every one of them. I know which ones are married and which ones have kids, and which ones have poor sickly aunts living out in Flatbush. What do you think Wilson Fisk would do with that information? Or Wilhelm von Strucker? Or Victor von Doom?”_ _

___Poor sickly aunts living in Flatbush. She's talking about Peter. About Spider-Man. Holy shit, she really does know who everyone is!_ “You'd really...”_ _

__“I'm not saying I would or I wouldn't. I'm saying that I'm willing to live and let live if you are.”_ _

__And with that, she was gone.__

 _ _ **XxxxxxX**__


	23. We Know How to Stop Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is about as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind. The kind that blindside you at 4 pm on some idle Tuesday.” -- **Tim Cox and Nigel Swanston** , “Everybody's Free to Wear Sunscreen”_

**XxxxxxX**

The drive from Miami to Big Pine Key was a little over two hours, not counting the ten-minute stop on Islamorada for 'snacks and cokes and a new pair of sunglasses,' as Louise called it. The two young women spent the entire time singing along to a carefully chosen selection of CDs, taking in the sights, and generally enjoying the ride. Louise had apparently decided that, for this trip at least, going to the Florida Keys meant listening to music that brought to mind beaches, bars, boats, and a lazy island lifestyle. Nothing but Florida music by Floridian musicians the entire trip down. Alex had smiled at the thought, but couldn't really argue with it.

Louise had started the musical cavalcade by putting a Jimmy Buffett album called _License to Chill_ into the car's CD player. Alex had heard of the guy – you couldn't live in Florida without hearing about Jimmy Buffett, even if you'd only been living in Florida for a month – but she'd never actually broken down and listened to any of his music other than occasionally running into his song 'Margaritaville' on the radio. As the opening bars of Buffett's cover of ‘Hey Good Lookin' sprung from the car's speakers, Alex gave Louise a big smile. Her wife, who was already bee-bopping to the music, grinned back. “I think the next car we're going to buy is going to be a convertible. Definitely a convertible. The sky was far too blue and cloudless to not be feeling wind in our hair.”

Louise laughed. “Not to rain on your parade, but you know you're wearing the wig.” She reached out and ran her hand through the red hair on Alex's head.

Alex just shrugged. She was, in fact, dressed up in her 'secret identity clothes.' “Doesn't matter. I can still feel it. It’s like little micro-vibrations in my scalp. Feels pretty good.”

They worked their way through Buffett's _License to Chill_ , Lynrd Skynrd's _Vicious Cycle_ , Tom Petty's _The Last DJ_ , and were most of the way through the Miami Sound Machine's _Eyes of Innocence_ when they finally reached Big Pine Key and the real estate agent's office.

**XxxxxxX**

“Good afternoon,” the agent said as they entered the storefront office. The nameplate on her desk said 'Caroline Gerardi.' At the woman's words, Alex's eyes cut to the clock on the wall above the real estate agent's head. It was a couple of minutes before twelve, so close enough. The real estate agent looked both Alex and Louise in all at once, then asked, “May I help you?”

“Hello. Yes, we had an appointment. I'm Alexandra Harris and this is my partner Louise. We called you on Thursday about the house you've got listed out on Sea Grape Street?” Alex stepped forward and extended a hand. The woman rose half-way from her chair and shook it as a look of confusion crossed her face.

“You're Alexandra Harris? Are you putting me on, or something?” The real estate agent released Alex's hand and sat back down. “This is a business, and we don't appreciate having pranks pulled on us.”

Alex and Louise exchanged glances. “Why would you think we're pulling a prank on you?” Louise asked.

“You're both teenagers! I mean, you're what, sixteen? Seventeen? Eighteen at most?” Gerardi put a hand to her forehead. “We are looking for a serious buyer for that house. I don't know what you were looking for here, but I don't appreciate it.”

“Alex is nineteen. I'm twenty.” Louise turned to Alex, who shrugged. That their official ages were only on paper didn't matter. “Look, Ms. Gerardi?” It was a question. The woman nodded vaguely. “Ms. Gerardi, Alex and myself are seriously looking for a house, and we liked what we saw of the one you have listed. We just drove two and a half hours to get here, and I assure you, we're not playing any sort of game or trying to pull some kind of a joke.”

“Uh-huh. Okay, look.” Ms. Gerardi rolled her eyes. “You two might be swell kids and all, but this house is really expensive. I'm talking around a million dollars expensive, for the land and the house. There's no way the pair of you could afford the payments on the mortgage, not at twenty. No bank would give you that loan. So yeah, if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you'd --”

“Here.” Louise dug into her purse. Alex stood back, content to let the other girl handle it. “This is the name of our account manager. Give me a sec. Just have to find his card.” Louise rummaged for a bit longer before pulling the business card out. She handed it to Ms. Gerardi. “Give Javier a call and he can confirm that we're here in good faith, okay?”

The real estate agent looked at the card. She squinted at it, as if trying to determine its authenticity. “Your banker is named Javier, and he's at the Scotiabank in the Grand Caymans?” Once again, she gave Alex and Louise a tight look.

“It’s a toll-free number.” Louise pointed toward the card. “Javier should be in his office right now. Just give him a call. He can verify that – well, maybe he can't verify that we're serious, but he can certainly verify that we can afford to buy the house.”

Ms. Gerardi looked at the pair, then back to the card. Finally, she put her phone to her ear and started dialing. “All right. I'll give it a try. Have a seat, please. Do you two have identification?” Louise dropped into one of the two chairs in front of the desk; Alex settled a lot more gently. The last thing she needed was to shatter the chair. When she wasn't paying attention, it was too easy to forget that she weighed close to five hundred pounds. They both produced their driver's licenses and handed them to the agent.

“Thanks.” She studied the two licenses for a moment. “It's ringing.” Ms. Gerardi gave them a quick smile. She tapped her fingers on her desk, then said, “Yes, hello. My name is Caroline Gerardi and I'm with American Caribbean Real Estate on Big Pine Key. One of the Florida Keys, yes. Are you Mister...” She squinted at the card. “Are you Mister Trampier?” She pronounced it 'tram-peer'. “Oh, I'm sorry, Trampee-yay. My fault. I suppose that's French? Ah, I thought so. I've got two young women here, wanting to talk to me about buying a house. They assured me that you would confirm their ability to make such a purchase.”

There was a short pause, and then, “Alexandra and Louise Harris.” Ms. Gerardi smirked then said, “Yes, young, attractive, blonde, twenty years old. Yes.” A longer pause. “Hmm. Really? Mmm-hmmm. Yes, I understand. No, certainly, I understand. So –” Then her eyes got wide. “I'm sorry, how much? Yes, that would certainly be sufficient. No, more than enough. Thank you very much. Sorry to bother you.”

The two girls watched the real estate agent put the phone's receiver back on its base with so much care and gentleness it was like she expected it to shatter on impact. Ms. Gerardi smiled at the two of them, a much more cheerful smile than she had given them when they had entered the office. Well, shall we go look at the house? We can take my car. No trouble at all.”

In moments, they were packing into Girardi’s sedan. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Alex leaned forward. “Um – is that an iguana?”

“What?” Ms. Girardi looked to where Alex was pointing. “Oh. Yeah, that's a green iguana. About ten years ago, someone brought a bunch in as pets and some of them escaped. Invasive species with no natural predators, so they're everywhere on the island now. They've even invaded a bunch of the other Keys nearby. If you're planning on an outdoor garden, you're going to have to fence it in, or else those lizards will eat it down to the ground.”

**XxxxxxX**

The house stood in the middle of a lawn made up of scrub grass and dune violet. The neighborhood itself was quiet. Alex could hear kids yelling and playing somewhere in the distance, but she couldn't see them from a casual glance. The area was divided by a series of canals, and everywhere the two girls looked, boats were tied up to private docks. And there were palm trees, scrub pines, and palmettos everywhere.

“There's regular trash pickup on Tuesday mornings, with recyclables being picked up on Thursday. There's a service that comes by for yard debris every Wednesday, but given that nobody around here really has one of those golf course-style thick lawns – the entire island is a coral atoll – there's not a lot of that. Maybe every once in a while, you'll have to trim your palm trees of dead limbs, and whatever drifts up on your beach from the ocean.”

“We have -- I mean, the house has its own beach?” Louise's eyes were wide.

“And a beautiful beach, at that. And a pier you can fish from, or tie a boat to if you have a boat. You're directly on Torch Cut on this side of the road.” Gerardi pointed to the pink house across the street. “Your cross-street neighbors are on the canal. So, shall we look inside?”

Once inside, Louise's reaction was immediate. “Oh my God! Alex!” Louise spun in place, taking in the interior of the house. Alex's eye cut quickly to the real estate agent, who had one of those smirks on her face. It was a friendly smirk, but a smirk nonetheless. The kind of smirk that always graced a real estate agent's face when it becomes obvious they're about to get a huge sale. Alex allowed herself to sigh in irritation at the fact that Louise had for all intents and purposes just bought them the house without them agreeing to buy the house. But it was a small sigh. The truth was, Alex liked the house well enough; she just hadn't fallen immediately in love with the place.

Louise, on the other hand, had done just that. “Just look at this place, Alex!” Alex had to admit that the house itself was magnificent. From the outside, the building had a classic Caribbean white-clapboard design that made its unusual shape all that more apparent. The house was, in fact, shaped like two huge octagons connected in between by a rectangular section. A slightly weathered wooden deck wrapped around the entire building, front and back. The whole thing stood on pilings which held the building close to six feet off the ground. Alex couldn't help but think that was smart, given that the house was less than fifty yards from Torch Cut and the Gulf of Mexico in the heart of Hurricane Country.

The agent had only just let them in through the house's front door, which opened onto the central “rectangle”. A small foyer area was blocked off by a short dividing wall, and the rest of the room was carpeted in a dark tan. Most of the far wall was made up of large nearly floor-to-ceiling windows, and a pair of glass doors leading out to the back deck. The Gulf was perfectly visible from the foyer, and Alex noted that there were pelicans sunning themselves on the pier that led from the house's private beach out over the water.

Louise immediately abandoned Alex to the real estate agent and ran for the doors. In a second she had the door unlocked and was out on the back deck, looking out at the Gulf. Alex noticed her girlfriend's hair suddenly become two shades more blonde, almost to platinum, and hoped that the agent didn't notice.

Apparently, she hadn't. “This is the living area, naturally.” The agent gestured toward the right-side end of the rectangle. The tan carpet ended where the octagon began, joining an open dining room-kitchen combination that was, according to Alex's memories, bigger than Xander Harris and Kara Zor-El's bedrooms combined. “The dining area and kitchen are on that side, along with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a pantry-slash-utility room.”

She gestured toward the left-side octagon. The living room's carpet here ran into a solid wall that blocked that third of the house away. “Over here you've got a half-bath that opens just off the alcove there, the master bedroom – it has an en suite bath – and the fourth bedroom.” It was a big house. The real estate agent had mentioned that it was just over three thousand square feet.

Alex nodded. She knew it was hopeless. Louise wanted the house, so they were going to be buying it. But still, Alex had questions. “Do the bedrooms open up onto the deck, too?”

“Oh, no. The master bedroom does have an exit through the bathroom, and there is an exterior door in the kitchen, but otherwise the only way out to the deck is through the living room.” The agent glanced toward Louise, who was still out on the back deck, then back to Alex.

“Huh.” Alex was still trying to sound noncommittal. “I noticed that the drive-way is gravel-paved, and that there's no fence around the yard. Is there any way we can get regular paving out to the street and put a fence up? Maybe have it added to the cost of –” She trailed off as the real estate agent started shaking her head. “Okay, I'm missing something, I guess.”

“I'm sorry, Ms. Harris, but that's impossible,” the real estate agent explained. “You see, this property is in the middle of the Federal Key Deer sanctuary. By law, there's only so much development allowed, and unfortunately putting in an asphalt driveway and fencing in the property would be in violation of Federal law. On the other hand, there is every chance that some morning you could wake up and find key deer in your front yard.”

“Those are the little deer, right?” Alex walked into the dining room-kitchen area and poked her head around. The dining area was separated from the kitchen proper with a breakfast bar. Two bedrooms. A pantry. A utility room that Alex was pleased to find had a washer and dryer already installed.

“We'll take it!” Louise's voice snapped Alex's attention back to the living room. Louise was standing just inside one of the back doors, a smile as wide as Arizona on her face. “We want it. Let's go back to your office and sign some papers! I want to move in by the end of the week.”

Alex's shoulders slumped. There wouldn't be any way to negotiate a lower price now. Not when Ms. Gerardi was grinning like the cat who ate the canary. She knew that they were on the hook, and now it was just a matter of reeling them back to the boat.

“You sure?” Alex knew Louise was, but it was worth asking.

“Oh yeah.” Louise smiled at her partner, then turned to the real estate agent. “So, the asking price was 1.2 million. Do you take checks?”

The real estate agent faltered for a moment, then grinned. “An outright purchase then, no mortgage. Well, in this case, yes, I think we can take your check. Shall we go back to my office and finish up the paperwork?”

Two hours later, all the paperwork completed and a large amount of money transferred from their accounts to the real estate agency, Alex and Louise found themselves the proud owners of a house on a tropical island. They celebrated with lunch at a restaurant Caroline Gerardi assured them was 'the best seafood place in South Florida.'

“Do you want to hire a decorator, or should we do it ourselves?” Louise asked around a bite of her grouper sandwich.

“A decorator? Really?” Alex smiled. “Never thought you were the frou-frou type to need a decorator to furnish a house.”

Louise shrugged and smiled back.

“I was thinking we'd just hit up a Rooms-to-Go. Figure out what we want to do by looking at stuff.” Alex had ordered the crab cakes, and while they were good, she wasn't sure if they were the best in all of South Florida. “They also have free installation with delivery. The workmen can put everything together while we figure out where everything goes.”

“Okay.” Louise's eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. “What's a Rooms-to-Go?”

“It’s a furniture store. You know, Rooms-to-Go?” Louise's eyebrows didn't unscrunch. “You've never heard of –” Louise shook her head and Alex sighed. “Okay, so there's no Rooms-to-Go in this dimension. You know, as differences go, that's a weird one. That ranks right up there with that Burger Queen place replacing the Double-Meat Palaces.” Alex took a deep breath. “Okay, how about Ikea – are there Ikeas here?”

“Burger King. And of course, there are Ikeas here.” Louise rolled her eyes. “They sell entire rooms of furniture at a time. Big showrooms, too. There's one down on Seabreeze Boulevard in South Beach.”

“Great. Ikea is Rooms-to-Go here. One more thing to keep track of.”

**XxxxxxX**

Alex dove through the air, angling herself up and over the rapidly failing jet-liner. The plane had four engines, three of which were dumping clouds of black smoke and metal shards into the air. Whatever had happened, it had caused the engines to begin eating themselves. From the way the airplane was pitching, she could tell that the pilot was trying to keep it together long enough to reach land, any land. Alex had already checked. Despite what people thought, there was plenty of land to be had in this part of the Pacific Ocean. But the land was all tiny islands separated by hundreds of miles of saltwater. None of these islands was large enough for a pilot struggling to control his craft to make an emergency landing with a jumbo jet. And from the way the last engine was sounding, it would have given up the ghost long before any such land could be reached.

Alex positioned herself near the cockpit and matched speeds with the plane. She hung there, flying parallel, and willed the pilot to notice her. When she was sure he had, she rotated her body so the pilot could spot her colors and the symbol on her belt and shoulders. The man's eyes grew large, but there was also a sense of relief in them. Alex nodded; this was good. He would trust her. She pointed to herself, then to the plane, then made lifting motions with her arms. He didn't get it at first, so she repeated it, twice. Then he nodded, pointed to her, pointed to the plane, and made a motion with both hands. One hand stayed where it was, while his other hand swooped below the first, and then into a supporting position.

Alex grinned. Good, he got it. They had a plan now.

She brought herself around the aircraft again, and under it, ignoring all the frightened faces staring out at her from the plane's windows. Positioning herself in the center of the craft, she edged upwards until her back was up against it. The minute she felt its weight on her body, she grabbed the fuselage with both hands. Just tight enough to hold on, not tight enough to rip the skin of the plane from its belly.

Then she lifted. The plane immediately began to stabilize.

Alex scanned the horizon ahead of them, looking for a likely place to land. Far ahead of them, just on the horizon, she could see Guam. Her memories from Kara told her there was an US Air Force base there.

Perfect.

**XxxxxxX**

Louise pulled the last stack of dishes out of the box and began loading them into the dish washer. When the time came to buy dishware, she had insisted on getting Fiestaware, mostly green and blue. They'd purchased eight of everything, because you never knew. “How's it coming?” she called over her shoulder. When the box of plates was empty, she started unloading the bowls.

“It’s coming.” Alex was busily assembling and connecting the various electronics that were going into their entertainment center. She'd already attached the speakers to the television, and was double-connecting them to the stereo system. The Xbox was next on the list. Naturally, along with the electronics, they'd already picked up some new DVDs, and some new music CDs, and some new games.

“How about when you're done there, we drive into town and check out the Winn-Dixie? We could use some groceries.” Louise opened a third box. This time it was saucers. “Oh, wait! No, let's drive over to Marathon Key! They have a Publix over there, next to a K-Mart. We can get groceries and pick up some deli sandwiches for dinner! And we can measure whether the Seven Mile Bridge is really seven miles long.”

“That is an excellent idea.” Alex said casually. It was true. It had surprised Alex to find out that Florida, even though it was widely held to be a cultureless place that catered to tourists, actually did have a well-developed culture all its own. Floridians just never bothered to share it with tourists. And a part of that culture was Publix supermarkets and their deli sandwiches. New Yorkers might brag about their delis, but to Alex's mind, and Power Girl's memories, none could equal the exquisite perfection of a fully loaded Publix Ultimate Sub. She tightened the head of a holding screw, then gave the wire a gentle tug. It held. Now just the Xbox to go.

Alex glanced up to see Louise staring at her. “What?” she asked, concerned.

Louise just grinned. “I love you. You, me --this! The entire domestic – thing!” She gestured at the house. “I just love you, that's all. I love you.”

**XxxxxxX**

Alex knew it was coming. She could feel the vibrations in the metal of the track even as she held the large piece of metal in place and began spot-welding it with her heat vision. The train was still coming, and the damage done to the railroad bridge by the exploding truck was bad enough that, when the full weight of the train hit it, the bridge would collapse and spill the train into street surrounding the bridge. Tallahassee wasn't the biggest city in Florida, but it was the state capital, which meant that it was busier than it should be according to its size. The area surrounding the railroad bridge, which carried trains over Tallahassee's traffic-filled main street, was filled with businesses and governmental offices.

Not enough time to evacuate. Not enough time to stop the train. Not enough time.

“One more, right there!” The municipal engineer was guiding her in the placement of support beams that hopefully would buttress the bridge and keep it from collapsing as the train passed. “Right there.” Alex nodded at the man and brought the four-ton beam into place, and again welded it in place with her heat vision.

“Where now?” she asked.

Another voice interrupted. It was the city's Fire Chief, speaking through a bullhorn. “You two get the hell out of there! You're about to get hit by the train! Get out!” The other engineers and construction workers who had been helping to fix the bridge were all running for cover.

Alex looked to the engineer. “Go. I'll try and get a few more beams in.”

But the man just shook his head. “And where will you put them? Do you even know? Nah, I ain't going anywhere. You stay, I stay! Next one, right there!” The man pointed, and Alex obediently placed the next beam. She had just put it in place when the train made it to the bridge. Alex rushed to the engineer and covered him with her own body. If the train collapsed the bridge, she'd protect him the best she could.

And in less than two minutes, the train was passed.

Alex and the engineer stood, looking up at the bottom of the bridge. They stared at it for a moment. The only damage they could see was where the single loose beam, the one she hadn't had time to weld into place, had fallen to the ground. Then the man leaned back and gave a whoop of joy, leaping into the air and throwing his fist skyward. “YEAH!” He grabbed Alex and kissed her, right on the mouth. ““Superwoman, you are my true-blue hero!” The man hugged her, then then strode away. He was immediately talking into his radio to get the construction guys back to work. 

Alex giggled, and despite a flair of irritation for the familiarity, decided to let it go. The man stuck when he didn't have to, and he didn’t have superhuman strength of invulnerability to protect him had things gone wrong. But he stayed when he could have run. The engineer was five times the hero she was. A kiss and a hug was a small price, and it was clear that he hadn't meant anything by it. Besides, tradition said that every hero deserved a reward.

Of course, Louise had to have seen it, given the presence of the television cameras, but it didn't matter. Louise would rib her about it, but wouldn't make a big deal of it.

With thoughts of her wife at home, and the traditional heroic rewards that were waiting, Alex rose into the clear blue sky.

**XxxxxxX**

Alex's telescopic vision confirmed what the radio had said long before she reached the Port of Miami. The Wrecking Crew had invaded a cargo vessel docked at the unloading docks and were trying to make off with the contents of a particular container. They'd been engaged by the port's security and the Miami-Dade SWAT team and an ongoing shootout was in progress. According to the radio, the Coast Guard was sending a patrol boat equipped with heavy weapons up from Dodge Island, but it wasn't expected to arrive for another twenty minutes or so.

She tried to recall everything she knew about the Wrecking Crew – Alex recognized them by their costumes when she was still three miles away – but all Alex could recall was that they were Thor villains, that Loki had given them their powers, and that while they weren't as physically powerful as Thor, they were at least as strong and as hard to hurt as the average Asgardian. And she thought that they had magic weapons.

_Not that that matters._ Alex thought to herself. _This fight wouldn't last very long. There were only four of them, and they were only as strong as Asgardians. No problem at all._ Alex came to a stop thirty feet above the deck. The Wrecker and Thunderball were rummaging around in a container while Bulldozer and Piledriver were throwing chunks of metal at the cops. The police were returning fire, but as all four of the Wrecking Crew were bulletproof, their guns were useless.

“Well, hello there! Nice day for a bit of shopping, isn't it?” Her call was just loud enough to catch everyone's attention. As one, the four villains turned to look at Alex.

The Wrecker gestured to the side, and a glowing crowbar flew into his hands. “Who are you supposed to be, sugar-tits?”

“Sugar tits?” Alex bristled. _This fight definitely wasn't going to last long._ “Did you just call me _sugar-tits_?”

“I've seen her on TV. Some new hero. Calls herself 'Superwoman', if you can believe that.” Thunderball almost laughed.

“Oh yeah. Her.” The one named Piledriver cracked his knuckles, all the while looking her up and down. “Saw a report on CNN that said that the number of searches on her nearly crashed Google couple of months back. She apparently beat up the Avengers.”

Thunderball started spinning his wrecking ball over his head, moving it faster and faster by the second. “Yeah, I saw that. Saw on Facebook how Hugh Hefner's offering a million dollars for her to pose nude in his magazine.”

That caused Wrecker to laugh. “With tits like those? Who'd blame him.” He smirked at Alex. “So, girly, you beat up the Avengers? Like that's supposed to be hard?”

The Wrecker gave Alex a hard stare, then glanced over her shoulder at the police. “Wrap it up, boys. We want to get this done before the coast guard gets here with some kind of battleship.” He turned back to the container and said, “Thunderball, Bulldozer, dump the broad.”

“I'd ask you to surrender,” Alex growled. She dropped toward the leader, figuring on taking him out first. “But we both know you're not going to-- _ **OOOF!**_ ”

Before she could blink, Alex's vision was blurry and the world had narrowed down into a tube. When the tube expanded back into the world, she found herself lying on her back, the wreckage of a cargo container bent around her. She shook her head to clear it, then spit a mouthful of blood to the ground. It took her a moment to realize what had happened. Thunderball had slammed his namesake weapon into her, and it had happened faster than she ever thought possible. It _shouldn't_ have hurt that bad; the fact that it had come as a shock.

“Son of a bitch must pay!” Alex gained her feet and took off into the air. The four costumed men had spread out in a semi-circle and were waiting for her to return. She had barely put her feet on the deck of the ship when Bulldozer and Piledriver both charged at her from two different directions.

 

Bulldozer was faster than Alex suspected, but not still not quite fast enough. In one smooth action, Alex sidestepped the man's rush, grabbed his swinging fist in one hand, and clocked him in the jaw with her other. Bulldozer stumbled, and his helmet visibly deformed under the impact of her fist, but surprisingly, he didn't go down. Still in motion, Alex ducked under Piledriver's left hook and kicked the villain in the stomach. The villain folded around her boot. Piledriver landed on his ass, the breath driven out of his body.

Alex smirked as she turned, looking for the other two. Before she did, her vision exploded in a flash of light. Something hard struck her in the back of her head and her vision blurred. Alex stumbled forward, falling to her hands and knees as she tripped over her own feet. _What the – what hit me – what –_ Alex tried to scramble back to her feet, but the world had begun spinning and she couldn't quite find her balance. She was still struggling when Alex felt what had to be a metal-toed workbook slam into her ribs. The force of the kick slammed her into another cargo container. This time the container held, but its side wall was bent and damaged.

“Thunderball, dump her. Piledriver, Bulldozer! Break time's over.” The Wrecker slapped his crowbar against his hand several times and grinned at her. Alex shook her head, trying to clear it. This is bad, she thought to herself. Her ribs were hurting, not to mention the back of her head. She was off-balance. Her ears were ringing and her vision was still blurry. The bad guys had proven that they could hurt her. And they outnumbered her.

It occurred to Alex that the Wrecking Crew regularly went toe-to-toe with Thor and the Avengers.

Just in time, Alex saw the incoming punch. Piledriver was back. He lunged at her, but she jerked back away from his punch. His fist slammed into the side of the cargo container. The impact finished the job of caving the side of the container that her body had started. Alex stood up beneath him and gave him a push. This time he went flying away from her, bouncing along the deck as he flew.

Alex turned just in time for Bulldozer to slam into her left side at full speed. For a moment, Alex lost her footing; the air was driven out of her and she felt one of her ribs crack. Bulldozer reared upward, and Alex found herself dumped on her ass, over his shoulder.

Bulldozer turned more quickly than she expected. “Don't see what's so 'super' about you, bitch!” He slammed both fists down onto her chest. The air left her lungs in a rush.

Alex inhaled hard, sucking in buckets of air. She grabbed both of his wrists before Bulldozer could straighten up. She took the opportunity to kick him in the side. Once, twice, three times. Alex knew that she shouldn't feel any amount of glee from harming another human being, but the feel of his ribs giving way under her foot, of the look on his face as she let go of his wrists, of the surprise she saw in his eyes as he flew bodily away from her and into the waters of Old Bull Bay. “And you never will, prick.” Alex called after him, the smile still on her face. The smile became a grimace as Alex hastily rolled out of the way. Thunderball's wrecking ball smashed into the cargo ship's deck plating where a moment before she'd been. She continued to roll, then hopped to her feet as best she could as he pulled the ball back toward himself, and then again began spinning it.

Alex caught the hint of motion in the corner of her eye and got an arm up in time to block the Wrecker's crowbar before it cracked her skull open. The impact jarred her to the point of making her teeth hurt and her arm went numb from fingers to shoulder. Alex short-jabbed the Wrecker twice in the face, then a third time.

She forced her numb hand to move. Alex punched one hand into the Wrecker's chest as her other hand slid up the length of the crowbar. The Wrecker flew backwards and landed on his ass; his weapon stayed right where it was.

“Got to give you credit, girl. Most people would have run by now.” Thunderball heaved his weapon toward her, giving her a grim smile.

Alex returned the smile. “Batter up, asshole!” She timed the wrecking ball, squinted, then swung for the fences. The crowbar slammed into the full weight of the ball and fired it directly back and Thunderball. The villain dove out of the way just in time to be missed by his own weapon. Alex rushed forward, smacking Thunderball in the head with Wrecker's crowbar. She dropped the weapon to push him up against a cargo container. Alex hit him with a right cross, left hook, jab-jab combination to the face. She grabbed him by the neck and drove his head into the container until Thunderball's eyes rolled up in his head. She let Thunderball go and he fell, face-first, onto the deck.

Alex spun in place, looking for the other villains. A quick scan of the x-ray spectrum showed that Bulldozer was nowhere in immediate sight. If he had resurfaced, he'd done it where she could see him. But Piledriver was right there, rushing toward her. The Wrecker was also approaching, but more slowly.

“You two ready to give up?” Alex stood ready for a minute, catching her breath.

“Not hardly.” The Wrecker reached his hand out and his crowbar flew into it. It was frighteningly similar to watching Thor's hammer return. It distracted her long enough for Piledriver to get close. He slammed a fist into Alex's face. The impact drove her back a step, and her teeth snapped shut hard enough to hurt. Alex shook her head. Piledriver threw another punch, but Alex caught his fist in one hand and squeezed.

“Ah, shit! Jesus, lady, let go! Leggo! Damn it! Let go!” Piledriver's fingers broke as Alex pushed his wrist backward, forcing him to his knees. “Agh! Shit! Let go!”

Alex pulled Piledriver forward, intending to drive her knee into his nose, but she stopped, suddenly. She let go of Piledriver, who yanked his hand away from her and cradled it. Alex blinked him, still kneeling in front of her. Then she looked down at herself. She shook her head, not really understanding what she was seeing. Alex looked back at Piledriver, who was smirking. She felt like she was going to puke, and then did just that. Blood and a mouthful of breakfast splattered on the deck next to Piledriver.

She brought a hand up to her abdomen. Protruding through her stomach, just a few inches from dead center, was the end of the Wrecker's crowbar. She watched her own blood seep down and through the wedge cut in its end.

The Wrecker shoved her from behind, pulling the weapon out of her body as she fell to her hands and knees. Her arms felt weak, almost unable to hold her shoulders off the deck. The world began to spin and turn gray. _Oh Christ, Louise, I'm sorry._ Alex wasn't sure where the thought came from. Piledriver got to his feet, chuckling. The Wrecker walked around her to stand next to his injured teammate. They were taking their time getting to her, as if convinced she was no longer a threat.

“This has been fun, but we've got to go. Pick up Thunderball, Brian. And let's find Bulldozer.” The Wrecker took a stand in front of her. She willed herself to look up at him. He was grinning down at her and was taking a grip on his crowbar that reminded Alex of the grip Derek Jeter always took before slamming a baseball out of the park. “Nice knowing you, girly. You tried.”

The Wrecker pulled his crowbar back; there was no doubt it was going to slam into her skull at any second. The burn started behind Alex's eyes and suddenly the Wrecker's costume was on fire. The man reared back. The Wrecker dropped his weapon and he started slapping at his chest, trying to put out the flames. Behind the Wrecker, Alex could see Piledriver turn back toward them.

_One last ounce – one last ounce._ Alex wasn't even sure what it means, but she clung to it. She lunged to her feet, nearly stumbled, but kept moving. Her breathing was labored, and the pain was incredible. 

“No.” Alex gritted her teeth and moved. She rushed past the two men, arms held out at shoulder height, so quickly that she left footprints in the deck plating. She brought her hands around together, barely recognizing that she had grabbed the two villains. Alex felt, rather than saw, her opponents smash into each other hard enough to cause metal to buckle. She let them drop.

For a moment, she couldn't breathe. Air was not coming into her lungs in more than shallow sips. I've got to get to Louise. I need to get home.

For the longest time, she stood there, staring into space.

“Hey! Hey, lady! Uh, Super, uh, girl – what's her name? Hey! You okay?” Alex turned. The SWAT commander was there, asking a question apparently. Behind him, the rest of his team were securing the wrecking crew. The cop glanced at her face, then his eyes dropped. They always look at my tits. Alex tried to drag a full lungful of air in, but it was slow and hard going.

“Oh, Jesus, lady! Hey!” The cop wasn't staring at her tits. He was staring at her stomach, at the hole that the Wrecker had driven through her, and the blood that was seeping her front. The man turned back to the docks. “We need a medic over here! Now, God damn it! We've got a casualty!”

The cop took her by the shoulder. “Come on! You need to lay down or something.” He tried to assist her to the ground, but couldn’t budge her. “Lady! Uh, Supergirl? No, Superwoman! Superwoman, come on. Get off your feet until the EMTs get here.”

“No.” Her voice was weak. “I got to go home.” Alex put a hand to her head. There was a camera crew behind the police line. They'd captured the entire fight. “My – my wife – my wife's – she's going – going t-to be worried about me.” Alex brushed off the cop, unintentionally knocking the man to the ground. She leapt upward, only to crash into the deck.

“Jesus lady!” The cop was climbing to his feet.

Alex lurched, climbing to her feet. She stumbled forward and willed herself into the air. First a couple of feet, then ten, then a hundred. It took all of her concentration. All her concentration. Alex's only thought was making it home to Louise.

Five minutes later, Alex plowed face-first into the shallow water of Torch Cut, three yards short of the private beach behind their house. She dragged herself to her hands and knees and crawled the last ten feet to the sand. She lay there for a moment, barely able to keep her eyes open. It would be so easy to just fall asleep here, in the mild surf behind her house. She fought her way upright. Vaguely taking note of the red-stained circle she'd left behind her. The stairs were miles away. Miles and miles. She stumbled toward the stairs, forcing her feet to move. _I'll lay down once I get to the deck. Just get to the deck._ Alex stumbled and almost fell three times. By the time she made it to the deck, Louise was running toward her. Louise had the household first aid kit in her hand and a terrified look on her face.

“Honey, Louise –” Alex mumbled. “I got hurt. I got hurt, baby.”

**XxxxxxX**

“Hmm. That's interesting.” Reed Richards watched the footage of Superwoman's fight with the Wrecking Crew collected by both the media and by the police. For the fifth time, he paused it just after the stabbing. The Wrecker had made some signal to his teammate, who had distracted the heroine. Then he approached her from behind and stabbed her. From the look of exertion on his face, it had taken some effort, but he had effectively impaled her on his weapon. The impalement of Karen Starr lasted perhaps three seconds from start to finish. Richards ran it back and rewatched it. Ran it back. Rewatched it. Seventeen times. First the police footage, then the footage from the news crew.

“I wonder.” Richards pulled up the security footage from the attack on the Thunderbolts. No one had formally charged Karen Starr with the deaths of the Radioactive Man, Bullseye, and Venom, but the girl wasn't exactly denying it, either. He watched as the Swordsman drove his magically powered blade through the girl's shoulder. Then ran it back and rewatched it. Ran it back. Rewatched it. Again, seventeen times.

“Well, that's very interesting.” Reed turned to a keyboard and began entering his thoughts into his case log. When he was done, he hit the intercom, entering the command to get an outside line. “Tony, could you come over to my lab, I need to discuss something with you.”

In the fifteen minutes it took for Tony Stark to join him, Reed Richards made additional notes while he was waiting, and reviewed other pieces of footage, all of which dealt with the Starr girl. As Stark entered, Richards looked up. “I've got some results.”

“Okay, shoot. What have you found out?” The billionaire leaned over Richards' computer terminal, seeming almost bored.

Richard hooked an eyebrow at him. “Am I keeping you from something?”

“No. Yes. I don't know.” Stark shrugged. “I think maybe we went about this all the wrong way. The more time that passes, the less I think that we've implemented the SRA correctly. I talked to her.” He pointed toward the footage playing on the monitor behind Richards. “She made some good points.”

“Perhaps she did.” Richards tapped a finger on his desk. “Osama bin Ladin made some good points about the corrupt mercantilism of American culture. Didn't change the fact that he was a terrorist.”

“She's hardly Osama bin Ladin, Reed. If she's a criminal at all, it’s because we made her one, remember?”

“Yes, well, that's not why I called you here.” Richards waved toward the monitors. “At the request of the President, we've had a SHIELD team show up every time she made a public appearance, disguised as a news crew. I had them outfitted with special sensors, based on what you noticed about Karen Starr during the unfortunate fight at the Barton house.” Stark didn't correct Richards. He wasn't quite ready for anyone else to know that “Karen Starr” was Alexandra Harris. It wasn't much anonymity, but it was something.

“And your conclusions are?”

“First, she's not invulnerable. She has a very thin, very effective force field around her that protects her from harm. It’s very selective, so I have no idea how it works. It raises a lot of questions. For instance, how does she breathe through it?” Stark began to speak and Richards waved him aside. “It doesn't matter. Secondly, it appears that magically empowered weapons pierce her force field as easily as the proverbial hot knife through butter.”

“Magical weapons can be hard to come by, Reed.”

"Yes, I am aware of that. And to continue, thirdly, I do believe you guessed correctly.”

“She's absorbing light.” It wasn't a question. Stark had guessed this was happening back in California, based on the girl's infrared signature.

“Metabolizing it, I'd say. It’s a fair bet that it’s what powers her. You might recall that, during her time as SHIELD's prisoner, there were daily reports of Starr simply standing in front of a window with her eyes closed.”

Stark's eyes got wide. “She was soaking up sunlight. Right under SHIELD's noses. Oh, I like this girl.”

“Hmm. Yes. And then during her first encounter with Sentry. Wasp said that Sentry had her at a disadvantage until he let loose with one of those energy beams of his. Energy beams he consistently describes as 'the power of a million exploding suns.' After which she was able to defeat Sentry easily.”

“He was hitting her with concentrated sunlight, in other words. She must have felt like he'd shot her up with a stimulant.” Stark shook his head. “Same thing happened during the fight with Moonstone. They were only making her stronger.”

“Indeed.”

“So, we need to cut off her access to sunlight, then?” Stark asked. “If we needed to capture and depower her, I mean.”

“Yes. That would be my conclusion. And I'm thinking that it wouldn't be instant. Seeing as she has been active at night, I'm guessing the cells of her body act like a battery, so we'd have to run down her power supply _while_ cutting her off from sunlight.”

“Tricky.” Stark responded. “Very tricky.”

“And don't forget, even without her force field and her enhanced strength, she's still six-foot-two and weighs nearly five hundred pounds.” Richards added.

Stark looked confused. “And your point is what?”

Richards shook his head. For such a brilliant mind, sometimes Tony Stark was clueless. “My point is, that it is very likely that even when powered down, she's as powerful as a rank-and-file Asgardian.”

“Right. Good thing to remember. But at least we know how to stop her now, right?”

“We know how to stop her, now.”

**XxxxxxX**


	24. Tony Stark Chooses A Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“Despite my firm convictions, I have always been a man who tries to face the facts and to accept the reality of life as new experience and new knowledge unfolds it. I have always kept an open mind, which is necessary to the flexibility that must go hand-in-hand with every form of intelligent search for truth. To ignore the facts is to turn your back on that truth, and my conscience refuses to allow me to do that, ever.” – **Malcolm X**_

**XxxxxxX**

Communications Technician Willow Rosenberg stepped off the elevator and looked around carefully. She was simultaneously trying to look like she belonged there and geek out over where she was. Willow had never been to the hub before, and this was the holy-of-holies for communications technicians in the agency: the mythical Fifth Floor. Every official communication involving the agency went through the computers on this floor – and not a small amount of its unofficial communications as well.

She was wearing her only business suit – it was a dark gray and looked smart on her, if it occurred to anyone to comment on it – and it was clear that she wasn't used to wearing it. Normally, she could get away with Dockers and a pull-over while at work. This was different. SHIELD had flown her from Los Angeles to Washington, DC, on a private plane and then put her up at a swanky hotel for this meeting. A meeting with Director Stark, the head of the whole kit-and-caboodle. The big cheese. The head honcho. And he wanted to meet a complete nobody like her.

Naturally, Willow wanted to leave the man with a good impression. So, making sure her suit was straight and that her SHIELD ID was clearly visible, she stepped up to the agent manning the post in front of the elevator bank with a smile on her face. He had the tall, solid look of an Ops agent.

“Hi, I'm --” Willow began.

The guard immediately smiled at her. “Agent Rosenberg. Nice to meet you, ma'am. We've been waiting for you to arrive. I expect you're wondering where to go.” There was a heavy dose of deference combined with a slight questioning tone in the man's voice.

She wasn't quite able to cover her surprise. _Agent? Since when have I been an agent? I’m a technician!_ “That's right, yes. Willow Rosenberg.”

“Nice to meet you, ma'am.” His smile was warm, if formal. “It’s to your right, take the first door, then all the way back. You're looking for the corner office. I'll buzz you through.”

Willow looked to her right. Behind a security door was a long hallway occasionally broken up by other doors. “First door. Is that right or left once I'm in there?”

“That'll be a right, ma'am. Don't worry. We'll get your badge in the system so next time you should be able to just walk on in.” The guard just stood there, obviously expecting her to walk away now that he'd dropped a couple of bombs on her.

“Uh, right. Thank you, Agent.” The man just nodded to her again, then pressed a button on his desk. The security door he had indicated clicked. Willow shrugged to herself and went through it. She followed his directions, going through the first door on the right, only to stop.

Inside the first right was a large bullpen. The room was in semi-shadow, to maximize visibility. They worked under the same lighting conditions in Los Angeles. For a communications hub, the room was surprisingly quiet. She continued on, walking as far back as she could get. Several of the technicians looked at her with strange expressions. Some were obviously interested in who the new face might be. Others looked at her with cautious nervousness. Some smiled and nodded then went back to their tasks.

When she reached the back row, she had to stop, not sure which direction she would need to find the right corner office. Looking around, she noted that the mere fact she stopped for a moment attracted more attention to her than her walking past everyone. Eventually, she decided to go for broke and approached a desk. The woman sitting there hadn't noticed her approach.

“Excuse me?” Willow tapped the woman on the shoulder, causing her to jump. “Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you.”

The woman in question – her desk placard read ‘Katherine Shaw’ – blanked her screen hurriedly in accordance to security protocols and pushed her headphones off. “Yes?”

“Hi there. You don't know me, sorry. I'm Willow Rosenberg, and I'm --”

“Oh! Agent Rosenberg! Yes, we were told you were arriving today to take over operations.” The Shaw woman made a conscious effort to sit up straighter in her chair. “How can I help you?”

“Take over – why would? You know what? Doesn't matter.” Willow waved off the woman's confusion. “I just need to find the right office.”

“Oh, right. Certainly. It’s just down there. Corner office.” Shaw pointed Willow in the right direction. “Did you need anything else?”

“Uh. No, that's fine. Thanks.” Willow's head was spinning. All these people knew who she was. That combined with the deferential treatment made her wonder just what in the frilly depths of Hell was going on. She grew increasingly nervous as she approached the far corner, wondering what strange fate would befall her. She could see the office's door – which, like the wall it was set into was made of presumably bulletproof glass – was open.

 _What would the Director of SHIELD be doing meeting me at all, much less dragging me across the continent to meet me here?_ The question came out of nowhere and caused her to stop in her tracks. Quite coincidentally, the question occurred to her just as she became close enough to read the information on the glass wall that separated the corner office from the rest of the bullpen.

It read, in three lines, _Willow Rosenberg. Senior Supervisory Agent. Special Communicators Group._

 _What the fuck? What the fuck?_ In the office, she could see Tony Stark himself, pacing back and forth while talking on a cell phone. A private cell phone, something that you were supposed to leave outside at the security desk. That rule was so ingrained in all communications techs that most never bothered to bring their phones to work with them, or left them locked in their car. Willow stood there, staring, until Stark spotted her. _He looks just like he did on the cover of People magazine,_ Willow thought to herself. In a kind of daze, Willow watched him smile through the glass wall, wave at her, then disconnect. And when he stuck his head out of the office door, she was surprised he spoke to her.

“Agent Rosenberg! Come on in! Let's talk!” He approached her, gently took her elbow, and guided her into the room. The door slid shut behind them. “Welcome to the Hub.”

“Uh, thanks.” Willow couldn't meet Stark's eyes. Instead, she glanced around at the office that had her name on the door. _Her name. On the door._ “What's this about? Why is my name –?”

“Well, when you get promoted to Senior Supervisory Agent and transferred to Agency headquarters, you get a corner office with your name on the door. I mean, putting your name on the door is sort of a requirement.” Stark, still holding on to Willow's elbow, led her around the desk. “Here, have a seat. Take some time to get used to your new chair. It’s one of the new ergonomic designs. Trust me, it’s heavenly. Almost as good as one of those vibrating massage chairs. Or so I've heard.”

“Wait. Transferred? I wasn't told I was being transferred, sir. When was I transferred?”

“Yeah, it was a snap decision. Not just the transfer but the entire promotion thing too. Don't worry, it comes with a substantial raise, and a really dreamy benefits package too.”

“But – but – sir? I can't just pull up stakes and move across the country! My entire life is in LA! Everything I own --”

“Don't worry. The agency has people – and I think that this is amazing, the lengths that SHIELD goes to take care of their people – SHIELD actually has people who specialize in moving their senior agents from posting to posting at a moment's notice. Right now, as we speak, these dedicated people are packing up your apartment and moving you into a highly secure, really modern apartment building SHIELD owns here in Washington. Don't worry, the apartment is one of the benefits of your promotion. All the Level Eights who work at the Hub live there. It’s got a great view of the tidal basin, easy access to shopping, and there's even a handful of very trustworthy and constantly monitored fast food places that deliver. Trust me, you'll love it!”

 

“Wait!” Willow held up her hands. “What the hell? You just can't uproot someone like this! I've got friends! My mom and dad! I was just starting to get good feelings about this guy, Dave, and was thinking I might – I can't just suddenly vanish and move across the country!”

 

“Sure you can! We – well, I, me, I mean – needed someone with fresh ideas to head up a special project, and yours was the first name on my list. In fact, you were the only name on my list. So, in my capacity as Director of SHIELD, I decided to – “

 

“But – I'm just a technician. I'm not actually an agent, sir.” Willow sat, still dazed. She glanced at Stark, who was just smiling at her.

“As I was saying, in my capacity as Director of SHIELD, I decided to expedite your clearance and get you some actual credentials.” Stark smiled at her again. “They're in your top drawer, I believe.” Stunned, Willow opened the indicated drawer. It held a leather wallet. Willow eyed that wallet like it was a poisonous snake. “Congratulations, Agent Rosenberg! Welcome to Level Eight!”

Level Eight. Level Eight clearance meant that she reported directly to the Director. She felt herself get lightheaded. “But sir... why me?” Willow slowly opened the wallet. Inside was the circular SHIELD badge that she knew she wasn't qualified to be carrying.

“Well three things. First, I have it on highest authority that you're trustworthy. You know how to keep secrets secret. On the other hand, you apparently also know when to buck the system. Second, you're not a part of the established bureaucracy and I really needed an outsider on this.” Stark was quiet for a moment, and Willow suddenly realized the man was getting serious on her. Deadly serious. “And lastly, because I can prove that you, on orders from Phil Coulson, leaked the classified footage of the Avengers' rather spectacular defeat in California. And I'm certain you have no interest in seeing what the inside of a federal penitentiary looks like.”

Willow suddenly found she couldn't breathe. The awareness that she could be thrown in a hole for the rest of her life –

“Don't worry, though,” Stark continued. “I actually approve of you doing that. In retrospect. Sort of. Good job. I mean, sure, at the time not so much. But in hindsight, that was a brilliant play. So, I figure this is one of those you-scratch-my-back-I-keep-you-out-of-jail things. That way, everyone's happy.” Stark gave her two thumbs up. “And besides, you'll love this! You get to be a boss! You get to play with the most powerful – well – “Stark shrugged “– one of the most powerful computers on earth! Have you seen the benefits package a Level Eight enjoys at SHIELD? The regular salary alone is _six figures_! Not to mention the medical and dental coverage! And the vacation time! Want to go to Tahiti next Summer?”

“Tahiti? Go, with you?”

“Oh – no – not, like, with me.” Stark was suddenly sort of nervous. “I mean, you can go. On your own. Me inviting you to Tahiti would be, like, completely inappropriate. I'm seeing someone. And the last thing I need is a potential sexual harassment suit if things go wrong, right?”

“Uh. Right?”

“Right!” Stark was back to smiling. “Well?”

“So –” Willow began. “In return for not going to prison, you want me to... what, exactly?”

Stark smiled again. “Agent Rosenberg, like I said, I need you for a very special project. Let's – let's call it 'counter-surveillance' and leave it at that.” Stark leaned on the edge of the desk – her desk, apparently, and smirked. His attitude was beginning to piss her off, prison or no prison. “I want you and your team, reporting directly to me and me alone, to monitor all military and private sector communications – including the US and SHIELD – worldwide for any mention of a small list of keywords. I want to know what SHIELD is saying regarding this subject, what they are planning, and what they are doing. Also, we're going to want to sanitize a Miss Alexandra L. Harris of California, and remove any possible link between her and Miss Karen L. Starr of Ohio. Lastly, I want you to try and pin down a location for her, just in case we need to get in contact with her.” Stark gave her the same smile he used on movie stars. She recognized it from his appearance on the Tonight Show.

Stark held a tablet out to her. On the screen was a list of words, including a pair of women’s' names and what looked like a superhero code name. Willow cocked her head toward Stark. “Sir, since you're the Director, don't you already –” she trailed off.

“Let's just say that I'm being intentionally kept out of the loop on these sorts of operations and I don't appreciate it. As far as the rest of SHIELD knows, you and the rest of your team work secure surveillance tasks worldwide in support of any SHIELD operations that need it. It’s about eight hundred people around the world, and you're their boss now!”. Of course, you can feel free to make sure their exact location is never correctly reported.” Stark gave her a look. “So, will you help me?”

“Um.” Willow looked back down at the tablet. “I guess so?” Even Willow winced at her response. It was wishy-washy.

“Great! So – let me tell you a story. I think Agent Coulson probably already told you part of it. It’s about a girl named Alexandra Harris. In October of 2006, she appeared out of nowhere in orbit.”

**XxxxxxX**

_“Welcome back to the Donna Pahlke Show, folks. Today we're talking about the same thing everyone is talking about: the recent leaked documents published online yesterday by SunshinePress.com. These documents allege – oh hell, no, they don't allege, they outright state – that then-Acting Director Maria Hill had no authorization to threaten, much less actively try and arrest, Captain America several hours before the passage of the Superhuman Registration Act.”_

_“Yes, you heard that right, folks. The former Avenger, Captain America, the living legend himself, symbol of all that is right and good in this country, hadn't broken a law at all when Director Hill ordered him arrested for – now get this, folks – ‘treason.’”_

_“And what, I hear the good citizens of this fair nation ask, did the living symbol of democracy and freedom do – what horrendous act of treachery did the one man who embodies the Constitutional principles this country was founded on perform to cause SHIELD to decide Captain America was a traitor? Well – apparently – Director Maria Hill ordered Captain America to pre-emptively arrest certain members of the superhero community because rather than sign up for our dear president's private army of they said, ‘No, I'd rather take off the costume for good and become a private citizen again.’”_

 

_“At least that's what the letter of the law says. Now, you and I both know, faithful listener, that the letter of the law doesn't matter for a hill of beans. Look how many familiar faces the administration has perp-walked into that prison they built outside of Chicago. Just look at them all. Most of them hadn't been seen in costume for months prior to the SRA's passage. Months, folks! But that didn't even slow the Gestapo – oh, I'm sorry, folks, you know how it goes, piss off a Jew, you get a Nazi reference – after all, we all know SHIELD isn't the Gestapo. However, my point is still there. The fact that these people took the suit off and stopped heroing didn't stop them from being arrested despite not committing any crime.”_

_“Where are the courts in all this? Where are the lawyers screaming for their client's rights? I mean, sure, what happened in Stamford was a national tragedy, but how could we ever think that taking a big stinking poop on the Constitution is ever the right response to anything? Why did the American people just accept this crap?”_

_“I dunno. Do you know? I don't know. It’s a question that needs answering.”_

_“Feel free to join the conversation. My name's Donna Pahlke, and I want to hear from you. We'll be right back with your calls.”_

_Funding for the Donna Pahlke Show has been provided by: the Maria Stark Foundation, the Cheryl and Phillip Millstead Family, the Marigold Trust, and by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. This is NPR, National Public Radio._

**XxxxxxX**

For the eighth time, Phil Coulson, Senior Supervisory Agent for SHIELD, wondered how it was that no one in the briefing room beneath him ever glanced up at him. He wasn't usually one to question good luck, but this was ridiculous. Granted, people sitting in the rooms below were usually accustomed to being observed. The balcony levels allowed instructors and various other high-ranking agents and officials to spectate during training sessions here at the Academy. In this case, the balcony allowed Coulson to spectate on one of the weekly strategy sessions.

This subject of this strategy session was up on the screen. The hero calling herself 'Superwoman.' What little SHIELD knew about the woman's background – or rather what SHIELD officially thought they knew – was on display on the head's up monitors, along with pictures of the girl both before and after her assumption of the new Nome-du-superhero.

The personal information was scant, and Coulson could tell that a lot of it was wrong. For one thing, the file on display on the monitors still called her 'Karen Starr.' Her new identity as Alexandra Harris was nowhere to be found anywhere in the girl's official file. According to the file, she was believed to be based in Miami-Dade County, Florida, and it was known that she had wide popular support among the people of that state – up to and including the state's governor.

Not all the pictures were pretty. Along with the image of the girl performing thrilling deeds of unquestionable heroics, there was a shot from the LA airbase's security cam of the Radioactive Man impaled on Alexandra Harris's arm up to her elbow.

“Questionable acts.” Coulson remembered the discussion he'd had with some of the other Level Eights regarding 'Karen Starr.' Agent Sitwell, for example, was so adamant that the red in “Karen Starr's” ledger made her a villain, regardless of how much blue she'd added recently, and thus was a legitimate target. Personally, Coulson couldn't name a single senior agent who didn't have just as much red in their ledger, and in some cases for much worse reasons, and yet were still considered heroes.

“But,” Coulson had argued, “it all comes down to intent.” Protecting those who couldn't protect themselves, even if the people you are protecting them against are the good guys. That makes a difference.” And Coulson had to admit that Sitwell's response, that it’s not up to one individual to make that call, was troublesome because it was a good point.

“We believe that a weakness has finally been found.” The briefing officer's words pulled Coulson out of his reverie. “Previously, we have seen Starr's skin repel small arms fire, Hulk-Buster bullets, energy attacks from Iron Man and several other superhumans, and blows from superhumans we know to have enhanced strength levels.” As the briefer spoke, he clicked through several images showing Superwoman ignoring attacks. “But three weeks ago – the last time she was seen in public – a weakness was spotted.”

The images on the wall of the overhead boards but one switched to a still shot of the Wrecker ramming his crowbar through Superwoman's torso. The hold-out was a loop of footage confiscated from a local Miami news camera. Coulson winced, watching it.

“According to our best intelligence, the Wrecker's crowbar is an Asgardian weapon.” The briefer hit his control again, and several images replaces the shots of Superwoman being impaled. One was a file image of the crowbar in question next to a file image of Thor's hammer. Another was a shot of that self-same hammer knocking Superwoman on her ass. “We don't know yet if its specifically Asgardian weapons or mystic weapons in general that can hurt her. We had some earlier evidence that makes Doctor Richards think its magic weapons in general.” A third shot popped up, of the Swordsman stabbing Superwoman in the shoulder. “At first it was theorized that it cut her because the blade is close to being mono-molecular, but given the ability of the hammer to injure her, the Poindexters in the lab are reconsidering the evidence.”

Everyone smiled and chuckled at the joke. Coulson shook his head. Operations Agents were all the same. They were all recruited from special forces or police or other hard charging occupations and tended to be jocks in high school and college. Naturally, they looked on the technical agents that SHIELD relied on for their scientific acumen as second class citizens. Not quite as badly as they did the intel analysts – even though without the analysts all SHIELD could do was shoot blindly in the dark, they were considered the jokes of the agency for their general lack of combat skills – but still, the techs were looked down on.

Coulson, having come up through the ranks in the tech division, knew better.

One of the agents raised his hand and was recognized. “Sir, I understand this is useful intel, but what are we supposed to do about it? It’s not like our guns shoot magic bullets.” Everyone chuckled. “Is SHIELD going to be recruiting some of the hocus-pocus guys as agents, now?”

“Good question, Agent Patrick. Truth is, I have no idea. I know the higher ups are talking to some people to act as consultants with us, but so far, recruiting them directly as agents is a no-go.” Coulson nodded at this. Recruitment was almost impossible, given that most of the known and active mystics were following Doctor Strange's lead and sitting out the so-called 'civil war among heroes' behind impenetrable walls. The ones who weren't were either villains – and thus not trustworthy – or had turned them down flat.

“With that in mind, we've been authorized to pursue another avenue of approach. This is Louise Fulford.” A new face appeared on the monitors. “Also known as Louise Davis and Tiffany Crystal. High-school drop-out turned small-time criminal turned street-walker turned terrorist. Her sheet includes petty theft, grand theft auto, possession with intent, and multiple counts of solicitation. She's a known associate of Karen Starr. She's also been linked with that group of teenage hooligans running around the greater Los Angeles basin and Magneto's merry band of pranksters. Word on the street is that Fulford is a mutant, and her association with Magneto seems to bear that out.”

“Powers?” One of the other agents in the briefing was studying the personal information on his own tablet.

“Nothing official, but it’s believed she's some sort of shape-changer. Intel figures she's got to be at least a Beta if she's running with an Omega like Starr. What we do know is that during a confrontation, Karen Starr was successfully brought down by Mutant Zero, only to be defeated herself by Fulford. The report on what happened is so classified that it would take a presidential order for a Level Six like ourselves to get to it, but given what we know about Mutant Zero, she's got to be a heavy hitter. Maybe a mentalist of some kind, given Mutant Zero's powers.”

The rest of the agents in the briefing perked up at this. “That said, we also know that Fulford was hospitalized by Bullseye, so while she's a heavy, she's not invulnerable. Our orders are to find Fulford, take her, and then use her as leverage to get Starr to turn herself in.”

Still standing in the shadows of the balcony, Coulson cursed. Whichever genius thought up this plan deserved a punch in the teeth. SHIELD didn't take hostages; that was a villain play. And it wouldn't work anyway. Every profiler to look at Harris knew she'd create a pile of corpses if it meant protecting her loved ones. One profiler even called her a 'Knight in Shining Armor' who was dedicated to protecting those who needed protecting. Coulson pulled his cell phone as he continued to listen.

“We know that Starr has centered her activities as Superwoman to the Miami area and to a lesser extent the rest of Florida. Surveillance has just been started tracking every security camera in the state. When they locate Louise Fulford, word will be sent, and a team sent out. You will be on the standard 4/3 on-call schedule in shifts. Get used to them.”

_“This is Stark.”_

“Stark? Coulson.” He leaned the phone away from his ear so he could hear the next question from the agents.

“Who's on surveillance, sir?”

_“What's up, Phil?”_

The briefing agent checked his tablet. “Looks like Agent Rosenberg's team over at the Special Communications Group is on that job.”

“Looks like Operation Sloane Peterson is a go.” Coulson stifled a sigh at the name. It was Stark's choice of code name. The billionaire had left Coulson hanging after coming up with the name, not explaining that it was a reference to a movie for days afterward. The minute Stark had told him, Coulson had gone out and rented _Ferris Buller’s Day Off._ Good movie, but he still hated the name.

 _“Son of a bitch. Of all the ruthless, half-assed – all right. We can deal with this. As soon as Agent Rosenberg – “_ Stark ignored Coulson's snort; Coulson took a long time to get over that part of the plan too. _“-- finds the happy couple, someone's going to need to contact them face-to-face. You want to do it, or should I?”_

“Let me guess which you prefer.” Coulson listened to the briefing. They were still talking about Rosenberg down below. One of the agents being briefed shook his head.

“Never heard of Rosenberg. Never even heard rumors of her. You guys know what that means.” Everyone chuckled. Even the briefer.

“You called it, Agent Spivey. Either she's very, very good, or she's very, very new.” The briefer shrugged. “Never heard of her myself, but I do know she's a Level 8, and scuttlebutt is that she's one of Fury's handpicked arch-angels.” On the balcony, Coulson smirked at this. It was a running joke among SHIELD agents that while collectively they were good at keeping secrets secret, things that were less-than-secret tended to get shopped around like a used book. Stark had not only put Rosenberg in place, he'd apparently managed to get the ball rolling regarding rumors of just who Rosenberg supposedly was and why she was heading up a new task force.

“Yeah, but somehow I don't think they hand out Senior Supervisory Agent badges to newbies who've never done anything. I bet her personal file is written mostly in black marker.” It was another old joke. The longer an agent served, the more accomplishments they achieved, the more redacted their file became. By the time you got to Nick Fury, the only thing not covered in black magic marker was his name. The agents' collective confusion brought a smile to Phillip Coulson's face. They might actually be able to pull this off after all.

“I'll be on a plane the minute Rosenberg can get me the location. Just be prepared to back me up, Mr. Stark.”

_“Of course, Agent. I won't leave you hanging. Look, I'd love to chat, but I should go talk to a group of Senators and Congressmen about how Stark Industries can help with their re-election chances, and what Stark Industries will want in exchange for that assistance. Which is, of course, an amendment to the Superhuman Registration Act that ends the entire 'army of supers' thing Gyrich was trying to put together and should empty the Gulag all at once.”_

“Yes, sir.” Tony Stark in conference with a bunch of senators and congressmen. Wonderful. A billionaire goes to talk to some tame congressman. American politics at its finest. “Good luck.”

_“Thanks. When I'm done there, I'll talk to the Avengers. You wait to hear from Willow, then take a trip to Florida. We need to get this moving, Phil.”_

Coulson disconnected without another words and turned his attention back to the briefing. The agents were talking weapons at this point. He decided to wait until the briefing was over, just for the chance to talk to one of the agents being briefed.

“We're going for a capture, here, not the kill so the usual shock darts and icer rounds. Try to hold off on lethal ordinance unless absolutely necessary. Like I said earlier, Fulford took down Mutant Zero, so...”

**XxxxxxX**

Louise pushed through the front door, juggling her keys, the bags of groceries, and the mail. “Alex? I think I got everything on the list you sent me, but they didn't have the cheese you wanted. I got regular Parmesan instead. Is that okay?” She walked to the kitchen divider and dropped the bags and the mail onto the counter haphazardly. There was no response to her call but the vague sounds of some sort of sports program coming from the living room. It sounded like a football game, but that made no sense. Football wasn't broadcast on Wednesday late in the afternoon. Louise let it go, instead electing to open the oven door just a crack. She let out a groan of appreciation for the smells that wafted toward her. Garlic, tomato, Italian herbs that had no doubt come from the small garden Alex kept on the back deck.

 

“God, it smells fantastic in here! I am so glad one of us knows how to cook.” Louise shut the oven and headed for the living room. She found Alex sleeping there, dressed in a bathrobe and barely contained in the recliner. On the TV, the main menu of _Madden 2007_ was on auto-play, with the voices of John Madden and Al Michaels making inane football-related comments. The controller for the X-Box was laying on Alex's lap. Louise chuckled to herself; for a girl, Alex's video game tastes were purely male. In addition to the football game, Alex's favorites involved car racing, shooting aliens, and fighting the Nazis.

“Honey?” Louise shook Alex's wrist and watched as her partner snapped awake. “Hey there!”

“Hey!” Alex rubbed at both of her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Fell asleep. Sorry.”

“No problem. You're still healing.” Alex had been taking it easy since crashing into the bay behind their house on her doctor's orders – and hadn't finding a doctor who would keep Alex's secret identity a secret been a fun game! The doctor did what he could, but all that turned out to be was advice, basically bandages and disinfectants. Long hours of exposure to the sun had sped up Alex's natural healing process, but given that she'd been impaled through the stomach the wound was still red and angry looking even after all the super-regeneration. It had long closed and stopped bleeding, but that didn't mean it still didn't hurt. “So, did you have a good day?”

“Well, let's see. The highlight of my day was when we found out through DNA testing that Sam wasn't Danny's biological sister like she thought. Turns out she was adopted. And while Sam was finding that out, Alexis was finding out that her baby girl, whom she thought died a long time ago, wasn't her baby, so I think it’s going to turn out that Sam is Alexis's daughter.” Alex gave a huge sigh. “I'm serious, Louise. If I watch one more minute of _General Hospital_ I might just snap and go on a killing spree.”

“So, that's a no, then.” Louise gave Alex a kiss on the temple and let the subject drop. Instead, she started around the living room, picking up the detritus of their life together – a shirt left dangling on a chair, a book that was being read but had been discarded, some old magazines – that seemed to collect around the house like dust bunnies under the couch. It wasn't a bad thing. To Louise, the house had lost the shiny newness and had become comfortable. It was her first real home she'd had since being thrown out onto the streets by her parents. Not that there was a lot of mess – both Louise and Alex were neat freaks.

She finished clearing the living room and headed for the kitchen to put the groceries away. “I picked up the mail while I was in town.” That was the phrase for it. Technically the entire island was incorporated into the municipality known as Big Pine Key, but everyone who lived on it referred to only the strip of US 1 that held all the shops and restaurants as 'in town.' There was no direct mail delivery; if you wanted your mail, you picked it up from the Post Office in town. “Mostly fliers and ads, but you have a package. Got any friends in Detroit?” Louise turned to Alex, who had followed her to the kitchen, and handed the box over.

“No. Weird.” It was a standard US Post Office shipping box. As Louise watched, Alex's eyes got shiny for a second; it was something she recognized as Alex using her x-ray vision. “Looks like a cell phone. Or maybe a calculator.”

“Well?” Louise prompted. “You going to open it?”

“Guess so.” Alex shrugged and tore the box open. It was, in fact, a cell phone.

The moment it fell into Alex's hand, it started ringing. Louise jumped back a step, then looked up into Alex's eyes. Alex was similarly wide-eyed. “Uh, what should I do?”

Louise stared at the still-ringing phone. “Should you answer it?”

“I don't know.” Alex stared at the thing. It rang three more times, then stopped. There was a two-second delay, and then it started ringing again. “I'm going to answer it.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Get down behind the counter, first.” Alex backed up to the center of the room and turned around, away from Louise, who crouched down behind the oven in the center of the kitchen's divider. She couldn't see what Alex was doing, but she could hear it.

“Hello?” There was a pause. “This is she. Who is this?” Another pause. “Uh-huh. And how did you know --” Pause. Alex came around the counter, her eyes searching out for Louise. Louise stood, sending what she hoped was a questioning look at her partner, who shrugged.

“Stark told you how to contact me?” Louise swallowed at the sound of Alex's growl. “What do you want, Mister Coulson?”

“Tony Stark sent you the phone? What does he want, Alex?” Louise took a step closer, trying to hear the other end of the conversation. Alex looked to her and shrugged, not smiling in the least.

After several minutes of silence, Alex nodded and said, “Okay, Mister Coulson. I'll be there. Give me ten minutes. And if this is a trick, there is no power on earth that will save you.” Alex punched the disconnect button, then casually squeezed the phone into a small ball of broken plastic and metal. She dropped the remains in the kitchen trashcan and looked to Louise. “This guy called. Said his name was Phillip Coulson, and he was calling because Tony Stark asked him to. He wants me to meet him. He says he'll meet me fifty-five miles south of our house. I need to get into costume.”

“Wait!” Louise turned to the back deck of the house and looked out onto the Straits of Florida and the Gulf of Mexico. But that wasn't south, that was east. “This entire island is only half a mile long. He's got to be on a boat. I mean, what's south of here otherwise?”

Alex was already on her way to their bedroom, where the replacement costume – which Alex had never once worn yet – was hanging up in the closet. “Cuba.”

**XxxxxxX**

Alex circled the boat four times at high altitude, then circled it again from beneath the water. Coulson had promised her that it wasn't a trap, just him and the boat and a message from Stark, and so far, it looked like Coulson had told the truth.

Coulson himself seemed to be taking it easy. He was in a white printed t-shirt with a picture of a parrot, a phone booth, and a bottle of Jose Quervo tequila on it. The caption under the picture was “I used to rule my world from a pay-phone,” a line Alex recognized from a Jimmy Buffett song she'd heard playing in one of the local bars. The rest of his outfit was similarly casual: blue jean cut-off shorts, a white straw Panama hat, and blue deck shoes worn with no socks. The man sat under an awning, reading a book and occasionally drinking from a bottle of beer. Every once in a while, he would stop reading, pick up a pair of binoculars, and check his surroundings. He never once looked straight up, though. If he had, he'd have spotted Alex easily. She didn't know whether she wanted to correct this shortcoming or not.

As gently as she could, she touched down on the fantail deck of the boat and cleared her throat. Coulson didn't flinch or jump, he just placed a marker in his book and smiled up at her. “Ms. Harris. Nice to finally meet you. I've heard good things. Can I get you something to drink? I've got water, soda, beer if you want?” The man waved a hand toward the table where his beer – it looked like a Dos Equis – was slowly sweating in the ocean humidity.

“No, but thank you for asking.” Alex approached, but didn't sit down. “What can I do for you and Tony Stark, Mister Coulson?”

“Actually, it’s Agent Coulson.” He fished an ID wallet out of his back pocket and flashed the SHIELD badge. “But right now, I'm here on my own time, so if you want to call me Mister, that's fine. Tony Stark asked me to meet with you and give you a warning.” Before she could react, he held up a hand. “Not that kind of warning. We're not threatening you. Just letting you know about a threat from someone else. Apparently certain parties in the government don't want to let you just wander about without you being on a leash, and they’re going to rather unorthodox lengths to put the leash on you.”

“What does that mean?”

Coulson's face grew grim. “What it means is that there's a plan in place to bring you under control by kidnapping Louise Fulford. They're going to grab her, spirit her away to some unknown hidden place from which you'll never find her, and then force you to comply with their instructions by threatening her with harm.”

“When? And who gave the order? I'll drop them into a fucking volcano! Maybe then someone will get the message and leave us the hell alone!” Alex was trying to play it cool. Obviously, this Coulson guy didn't like it any more than she did, but it was hard to not take it out on him. He was a SHIELD agent, after all.

“I don't know when, and while I do know who gave the order, I will not be telling you that. We – Stark and I – aren't telling you this so you can kill your way through the US government until you find the guy you are looking for.” Coulson again gestured for her to sit down, and this time she did. “We both think it’s best if you allowed us to take care of it.”

“You just want me to sit on my ass and wait for someone to kidnap my wife?”

“No. We're want you to act with restraint and follow our plan instead of just rushing out there and breaking things.” Coulson took a step forward. “I understand the urge to lash out at those threatening your loved-ones. Believe me, I understand. But in this case, it would be best if you go a different route.”

“Yeah?” Alex matched Coulson's approach and stepped into the man's personal space, looming over the SHIELD agent in a clear attempt to intimidate him. It wasn't a difficult thing to imagine; Alex had four inches of height and close to three hundred pounds of mass on her side, not to mention the fact that she was built like a body-builder. To Coulson's credit, the agent didn't even blink. “Like what. Agent Coulson? What 'route' would you and Stark prefer that I travel?”

“We'd prefer you to allow us to handle it. Ms. Fulford --”

“Mrs. Harris. Her last name is Harris, now, Agent Coulson. We're married, remember?” Alex dared the agent to contradict her.

“Of course, my apologies.” He seemed a bit shaken by the slip. As if he had offended himself with his thoughtlessness. “Seriously, it was never my intention to imply that I don't accept and support same-sex relationships, and I hope you realize I didn't mean anything by it.”

The man's sincerity, not to mention the fact that he took that long to issue an apology, convinced Alex. She felt her attitude toward the man soften, and she reminded herself that this guy was supposed to be one of the good ones. “Well, okay then. No problem.” She smiled at the man. “So, what do you want me to do?”

“We – Mister Stark and myself – want you to help us handle the situation a bit more formally than you're used to. Cooperate with us. We will make sure that Mrs. Harris – the other, um – you know what? I'm just going to call her Louise. Do you mind if I call her Louise?” Alex shook her head, and Coulson continued. “I understand your concern, but what you have to realize is that this isn't going to be one of those situations you've seen in the movies where the cops wait around for the bad guys to attack. We're monitoring SHIELD communications and are going to have not only a SHIELD strike team on standby, but members of the Avengers team will be there as well. Louise will not be in danger, at all.”

Alex glared at him. “She shouldn't be in this situation in the first place. America's not supposed to act like they were – I don't know, Nicaragua or something. What the heck has happened to this country, Mr. Coulson?”

Coulson shrugged, but it was a sad shrug. “I don't know. This isn't the America I grew up in either. Believe me, I'd be much happier if I didn't feel obligated to help innocent people out of the hands of – look, I just want to help.” The agent went quiet, and the pair of them stared at each other for a while.

“Okay.”

“What? Okay?” Coulson looked confused.

“Yeah, okay. We'll go with your plan.” Alex grinned at the agent.

“Well. Good then.” Coulson straightened up. “I'll let Mister Stark know.”

“Yeah, you do that.” Alex took a deep breath, then looked him right in the eye. “I want to be there. I mean, I guess you're trustworthy, Agent Coulson, but the only person on the planet I trust one hundred percent is Louise, so if someone's going to be there to protect her, it’s going to be me.”

“Miss --”

“Take it or leave it, Agent Coulson.” There was a quick staring match, but this time it was Alex who looked away first.

“Fine. If that's what it will take, then that's what it will take. And you know what, now that I think about it –” Coulson smiled. “That might not be a bad idea. In fact, you being there would be the best part of the plan. We just need to take care of one more thing first.” The agent pulled out his phone and punched in a few numbers. “Hold on a second.”

Alex was still angry, but she let the man make his call. Coulson waited just a second for it to connect. “Stark, she's agreed, but I had an idea, and it sort of brought rise to a question.” While he was talking, he met Alex's eyes and smiled at her. “Right, the question. Just how quickly could you make Superwoman here an Avenger?”

The laughter on the other end of the line was loud enough for Alex to hear despite the phone being pressed to Coulson's head.

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a couple of people ask me if I am taking my cues from the Marvel Cinematic Universe when it comes to how these various characters’ act, or am I working from the comics. Obviously, when it comes to Phil Coulson, I'm using the Cinematic Universe. When it comes to all the other Marvel characters, I'm using the comics. Though I admit I am tossing a bit of Robert Downey into my Tony Stark.
> 
>  
> 
> When I create new characters while writing, I do tend to create a 'credits list', with various actors and actresses playing the parts in my story. I do this so I have a consistent vision of what the character looks like. Some people call this practice 'body-casting.'
> 
> For the many people who asked, no, the Willow Rosenberg who is mentioned in this chapter looks nothing like actress Alyson Hannigan, and there will not be any scenes in which this Willow Rosenberg runs into Alyson Hannigan. For this Willow Rosenberg, I used actress Maggie Siff (who most people will recognize as either Rachel Katz in _Mad Men_ or Tara Knowles in _Sons of Anarchy_ ) as a body-cast.
> 
> I don't have any plans for her to run into Maggie Siff, either.


	25. Allegiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient

**XxxxxxX**

_“You don't like me, and I sure as hell don't like you. But if we don't do something, Mr. Mohawk's gonna activate this ring and we're all gonna die!” – **Master Sergeant Avery Johnson** , to the Arbiter, “Halo 2”._

**XxxxxxX**

“You know it’s too damned early for this.” Louise yawned and stretched. Blurrily, she stared at the object that Alex had placed in front of her. Louise appreciated the gesture, but right now she was mostly concerned with the effort it took to keep leaning against the kitchen counter. It took a moment for the object to resolve itself into a coffee cup. Her favorite coffee cup. It was pink, four inches tall, bowed inward, carrying a picture of an equally blurry-looking Minnie Mouse who herself was holding a cup of coffee and a donut – the caption read 'Mornings Ain't Pretty.' That summed Louise's world up quite concisely at the moment.

“I told you, there's been an explosion and a couple of buildings are on fire. It could spread to the surrounding structures.” Alex was quite literally a blur as she moved, and was leaving after-images all over the kitchen. She was careful enough not to break anything, but the little micro-shockwaves from her movements were rattling the cupboards. Louise just nodded at Alex and paid careful attention to her coffee. Early into their experience as a happy home-owning couple, Louise learned the hard way that trying to watch Alex when she was moving like this gave Louise vertigo so bad she felt like puking, so Louise had long given up on doing so. “It came over the scanner.”

Louise rubbed her eyes, still staring at her coffee cup. Carefully, she lifted it to her lips. It was her favorite, of course. A Sumatran blend. The expensive kind that sold for nearly $25 a pound in the United States, but which Alex occasionally brought home at the cost of a few bucks and a quick trip to Southeast Asia. It was good stuff, and the fact that Alex was willing to fly all the way to Borneo to get it for Louise made Louise love Alex just that much more.

“Would that count as smuggling?” Louise asked herself without thinking about it. She took another sip of the coffee and smiled to herself.

“Smuggling? What are you talking about?” Louise risked an upward glance. Her wife was no longer a blur, but was standing in front of Louise, on the other side of the counter. Alex was grinning at her. “Are you finally awake, sweetie?”

“Getting there. Getting there.” Louise yawned again, then smiled back. Alex was leaning over the counter toward her, and the boob window was putting almost everything on display. Louise really did enjoy what Alex's costume did for her partner's figure. “The coffee. The fact that you get it from the growers in Indonesia direct instead of having to buy it here... is that smuggling?”

“Wow. Really?” Alex smiled, then closed the last inch of distance to give Louise a kiss on the nose. The benefits of possessing an Amazonian stature. “I'll be back as soon as this is taken care of, okay? Why don't you go back to bed?”

“No, I think I'll see if it’s on the news or something. Maybe fix some real breakfast.” Louise grinned at a sudden thought. “And who knows, maybe I'll have a special treat waiting for you when you get back.”

Now Alex was grinning too. “I look forward to it.”

Louise coughed an exaggerated cough as Alex moved toward the back deck. Her lover stopped, returned, and gave her another kiss. “Sorry, forgot the kiss goodbye.”

“That was nice, Alex, but I was actually meaning your cape. You forgot to put your cape on.”

**XxxxxxX**

SHIELD Agent Smith – and boy howdy did he get ribbed occasionally about the fact that his name really was John Smith – grabbed the camera and followed his partner, Agent Holiday. They were undercover as a news crew. By the time she was set up with the audio equipment, he already had the camera up and running and was recording everything 'Superwoman,' as she called herself, was doing with the fire department. The hero was moving in and out of the burning building at an incredible pace. Smith had to admit he was impressed.

Smith gave a wave to a nearby news crew. It was a friendly gesture, that's all. One big happy journalistic family and all that. The fact that the other camera man was a cute blonde had nothing to do with it. He'd seen the camera-operator at other big news events, working for one of the other networks. He'd never approached her, but then he was supposedly in a committed relationship.

Smith turned his attention back to his partner, who was smirking at him. They filmed the superhero in action as she and the fire department evacuated the two burning buildings and got the fires extinguished.

“You ever get the feeling we're on the wrong side in this?” Holiday asked him as she pretended to talk into his camera. Her 'microphone' was tracking all the local radio broadcasts and sending audio back to HQ.

“How do you mean?”

“You know, she's doing some real good here. She's saved lives. Why are we doing this?” Holiday looked at him.

“Connecticut. You remember that town that isn't there anymore because the superheroes were out of control?” Smith turned, making sure his camera got shots of everything, especially the crowd, just the off chance that Superwoman's girlfriend was watching from the crowd. Lord knew that if his girlfriend Brenda started fighting crime while wearing tights, he'd want to show up and cheer her on. “She's a loose cannon, and a really powerful one. Something needs to be done, so we're doing it.”

“I suppose. It just doesn't seem fair, that's all.” Holiday was quiet again. They continued gathering intelligence, and cheered along when the fire was finally out. Eventually, the hero disappeared back into the sky.

“Southwest.” Holiday muttered.

“What's that?”

“Whenever Superwoman appears, she always comes out of the southwest. And when she disappears, she heads back the same way.” Holiday shrugged. “Just something I noticed.”

“Maybe she lives in that direction.”

“Come on. What's southwest of Miami except the Everglades. Even for a hidden superhero lair, you have to admit the middle of a swamp would suck.” Holiday seemed to think about it a moment, then shrugged. “Nah, she's probably circling around to hide the fact that she actually lives to the north. Like in Fort Lauderdale or Boca.”

“Personally, I'm thinking South Beach. Girl looks like her? Where else would she live? She's definitely got a bikini bod.” Smith deactivated the camera. “Let's get this processed and send it to Agent Sitwell. He's been on my ass about getting better intelligence before they can move the operation forward.”

**XxxxxxX**

“Gotcha.” Agent Louden smiled. She and her partner, Agent Demming, had been shadowing Smith and Holiday for weeks, hoping to snag something that would lead them to who in SHIELD was pulling the strings on this rogue operation. She'd returned Smith's earlier wave with a grin, hoping it gave the impression that she was attracted to the man. She wasn't, but hey, this was an undercover assignment. She repeated that phrase in her head: _Undercover Assignment_. In all her years at SHIELD, she never thought she'd be involved in one of those. This was both Louden and Demming's first field assignment. They were both normally com-techs, but had been trusted to pull this undercover surveillance assignment by Agent Rosenberg herself. It was, in Louden's opinion, a huge honor. Rosenberg, after all, was a stone cold badass and everyone knew it.

Like most of the com-techs who worked for Rosenberg, they'd tried to crack their new boss's file when she took over the team. When one of them finally did get into it, they found the thing almost empty. The senior supervisory agent's file was so clean and sterile one could have performed surgery with it. No one in SHIELD – especially no one with Level 8 clearance – had a file that empty unless there was a ton of classified, blacked out operations involved that no one at SHIELD wanted to ever acknowledge. What made it interesting was that no one could find the virtual fingerprints of the person who scrubbed the file. Obviously, some next-level shit was going down.

The day after Kevin Brophy had managed to open the senior agent's file, Rosenberg had called Brophy into her office. Everyone expected an explosive dressing down, but all Brophy got was congratulations and a request to not do such a thing again.

Which lead to another aspect of the Rosenberg legend. In person, when dealing with the members of her team, Rosenberg was sweet, unassuming, and cheerfully upbeat. It caused the people on her team to be proud of who they worked for and the work they were doing. At this point, Louden, Demming, Brophy, or any other member of Rosenberg's team would follow their supervisory agent into Hell had she ever needed to ask. But she wouldn't ever ask. She'd calmly explain the mission, explain what the stakes were, and then head to it, knowing her team was behind her. Willow Rosenberg was the perfect supervisory agent, and every person on her team believed that.

To have such a badass come to her and Demming personally and choose them for this job was thrilling. Exciting. Dangerous, even. And now Smith had let the cat out of the bag, giving them exactly what they needed.

“Let's get this back to the boss!” Demming said excitedly. “It’s finally going down.”

**XxxxxxX**

“Are we even sure she's here? I saw the thing this morning with the building fires. She was working with the Miami-Dade Fire Department putting those out for a couple of hours.” Agent Ho didn't turn toward Agent Coulson as he spoke. He was too busy watching the surrounding area go by. “Might not have got back yet. Can you believe this place, boss? I mean, for being undeveloped, this place is beautiful?”

He said this just as the woods of the Key Deer Preserve abruptly vanished and the actual neighborhood, with its unique Caribbean-style houses began. Most of the buildings were on stilts. All of them were brightly painted in soft pastel colors, and not a few of them seemed to have been grown out of the ground and made of coral.

“Even if she isn't, we can leave a message with her partner. We can't delay on this.” Coulson nodded his head toward the Harris house. “We're here.”

Ho whistled. “Nice pad. And gigantic. I think you can put my apartment back in DC into this place a couple of three times. Weird shape though.”

“It is.” Phil Coulson had to admit, it was a beautiful if slightly odd-looking house. What made it so what its shape. The left and right ends of the house were octagonal, with a standard-looking box in the middle. You just didn't see too many octagons in modern architecture, and it tended to catch the eye. But it was, as he previously thought, a beautiful looking place nonetheless, especially with the deck that seems to wrap around the entire length of the house. The yard was carefully landscaped, and whomever had done it had used local plants. Some type of short sea-grass and palmettos made up most of the greenery. Nodding his approval, Coulson took the stairs at a brisk pace, but stopped when he noticed that Agent Ho wasn't following him.

Agent Ho had stopped, and was staring at something near the side of the house. “Hey, Phil? Is – is that an iguana over there?”

Coulson followed Ho's pointed finger and stared at the small animal that was moving stealthily along the line of palmettos that separated this property from the one next door. “A green iguana, from what I hear. They're an invasive species down. Some pet shop owner brought in a dozen of them or so, and when they didn't sell, he released them into the wild rather than keep them. It appears they took to the local environment with some gusto.” He gave Ho a glance. “Come on.” They stepped to the door. Coulson started to knock, but the door opened before his fist landed.

Alexandra Harris stood there in all her glory. The woman was dressed in a black leather bustier that put her already impressive bust line on display and left the upper edges of her aureolae clearly visible. A black leather collar, knee-high boots, and a riding crop completed the ensemble. Vaguely, Coulson took note of the fact that the heels on the boots made Harris a good four inches taller than her already impressive normal height. Alex Harris had always been five inches taller than he was; with the heals, she was almost a foot taller. It was a bit intimidating.

“Agent Coulson, you have a really crap sense of timing, you know that?” Phil kept his face blank, even as he heard Agent Ho's breath catch. Harris gave a quick glance over her shoulder, then turned back to the two agents. “What are you doing here? Is it, like, an emergency? Can you come back later? It’s not, uh, you know, not the best time right now.”

Coulson's training clicked in. “I'm sorry for interrupting, but unfortunately, Mr. Stark would like to talk to you.” He didn't even blink at her get-up. “He discovered who was running the surveillance operation on you and on Ms. Harris, and thought you might want to be there when it was shut down. He also thought you might want to get to know your new teammates...”

Harris shook her head. “Of all the –” she muttered. “Okay, you guys come in and wait – “

“Babe? Where'd you go? You coming back to bed? I've been a really naughty girl and – Oh!” The other Harris woman, Louise, stepped around the corner into the entry foyer from deeper in the house. Like her partner, Louise Harris was in a bustier, but hers was red instead of black and much more revealing, with cut outs that put her breasts and the join of her legs on full display. A black bow tie made of what looked like silk and a matching set of cuffs completed the outfit. Coulson saw the other Harris's skin redden for a moment, and her hair flashed from a honey blonde to a shade of dark crimson. All her hair, apparently. Then Louise Harris straightened with as much dignity as she could muster, as if she wasn't mostly naked and on display for the two men standing in the door. “We have guests. Care to introduce me, Alex?”

“This is Agent Coulson from SHIELD, and one of his associates.” Alex Harris turned toward her partner, frowning. “Jesus, Louise, put it away already.” Louise Harris smirked at the two agents and then skipped back out of sight, presumably heading toward a bedroom to change into some real clothes. Coulson watched Alexandra Harris sigh deeply as she shook her head. “Come on in, Agent Coulson. Please, make yourself at home while I go get dressed. Should I suit up, or can I go casual?”

“Casual for now, but you should pack a bag. I've got no doubt that eventually you're going to want to have the suit on, but Mr. Stark said he was going to have a new one for you waiting.” Coulson shrugged, finally letting some feeling into his expression. “And again, I'm sorry about the timing.”

“Whatever.” Harris smirked at Coulson and handed him the riding crop. He gave it a strange look and cocked an eyebrow at her. Harris huffed. “Just wait in the living room. We'll be right out. _God damn it, Louise!_ Harris stopped and turned back. “Hey, Phil. That car you arrived in. It’s a Corvette, right?”

That brought a smile to Coulson's face. “Yes, it’s a 1962 Chevrolet Corvette coupe convertible. Belonged to my father before he died. I had it fully restored.”

“Right. It is an amazingly beautiful car. But just FYI, Phil, if Stark so much as smirks about this – “ Harris waved her hands around, indicating the entire situation. “I'm going to turn it into a baseball sized paperweight and leave it on your desk.”

**XxxxxxX**

Twenty-four hours later, Alex and Louise were following Phil Coulson into a SHIELD control room. They'd spent the intervening time traveling. From a SHIELD SUV to a SHIELD quinjet to another SHIELD SUV, all the way to an empty warehouse outside of Tampa in which SHIELD had set up operations. Alex found it hilarious that they were being smuggled half-way across the state just to avoid being spotted by the very agency that was doing the smuggling.

“Here we are.” Coulson gestured them forward.

Alex tugged at the neckline of her new costume. The thing was clinging to her oddly, as if it were half a size too small in all directions. Coulson just shrugged when Alex started complaining, not sure of the answer himself. Alex just shook her head and tried to adjust the thing.

When she and Louise had got on the SHIELD transport plane at the airport in Key West, the case containing the new costume was waiting for her. A note from Stark had said it was made of Reed Richards's patented unstable molecules, and thus could stand up to the stresses of her powers more than the costume-shop-made suits she'd been wearing up until that point. Alex saw the obvious advantages, but for crying out loud, this was annoying. She pulled at the sides of the top, trying to get it to fit a bit better around her boobs. The way it was clinging to her, Alex was sure that her nipples would be visible the nanosecond they tightened for any damned reason at all.

Naturally, Louise had drooled all over her. In Stark's defense – not to mention the defense of Reed Richards – Alex was sure she now understood why everyone in all those Marvel Comics looked like they were wearing costumes that were painted on. Unstable molecules apparently stuck to you like the Venom symbiote.

Coulson gestured toward the room again. Alex took it all in with one quick glance. The door had read “Special Communications Group”, whatever that meant. It reminded her of the big NORAD control room in the movie _War Games_. Lots of big screens and computer-driven consoles and dim lighting, with a central pedestal overseeing everything in the back of the room. The big difference was the lack of military uniforms. Most of the people in the room, in fact, looked older, or heavier, or generally nerdier than what Alex had come to think of as SHIELD agents. She motioned for Louise to follow along as Coulson led them to Stark. The Director of SHIELD was standing behind the huge managing console in the back next to a tall, dark-haired woman, and a shorter woman whom Alex immediately recognized.

Stark smiled at the two of them as they approached. “And here we go! Now that the gang's all here, we can get things rolling.” Stark grinned at Alex, then shook Louise's hand. “Nice to meet you, finally. Glad you're here. Let me introduce you.” Stark drew their attention to the women. “Ms. Harris, I'm sure you remember Agent Sophia Dunne. Agent Dunne, this is Alex and Louise Harris.”

“Alex Harris, now? What happened to Karen Starr?” Agent Dunne's smile was wry, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

“I have no idea. Never met her.” Alex shook Agent Dunne's hand, then gestured to Louise. “This is Louise. We're married.”

The agent cocked an eyebrow, causing Louise to add, “Domestic partnership ceremony.”

“Nice to meet you.” The agent's nod was polite, but brief. “Congratulations.”

“Right.” Stark cleared his throat. “And this is Senior Supervisory Agent Willow Rosenberg. She's in charge of our Special Communications Group. Willow, this is Alexandra and Louise Harris.”

Alex felt her jaw hit the floor. She couldn't take her eyes off the woman. “Agent Willow _Rosenberg_?” She looked from the agent to Stark, then back. “Really? That's your name?”

The woman shrugged. “All my life!” The woman a thin brunette, taller than either Louise or Coulson but not taller than Stark. She had a nervous smile, and seemed uncomfortable by the attention. “Oh, I get it! The show! Yeah, I watched a couple of episodes after Director Stark suggested – of course I don't look anything at all like Riff Regan. But hey, I just loved her in _The Theory of Everything_! That was a fantastic series –”

“It is quite the coincidence, isn't it?” Stark interrupted, still grinning. “Anyway, Agent Rosenberg, thanks for the update. Keep up the good work. We've got a meeting with Agent Sitwell to get to.”

“Oh!” The woman looked surprised at being asked. “Right. Uh, well, nice to meet you both!”

Stark gestured, leading the two women plus Agents Coulson and Dunne out through another set of doors. “So, here's what we found out. There was a task force or something set up to track you two down, locate you definitively, and then call in a strike team to capture, uh, Mrs. Harris. The other Mrs... I mean.” Stark stopped, then grinned. “Anyway, they were analyzing traffic camera and security camera footage in the Miami-Dade metro area. Once they spotted, uh, Louise here, they planned on snatching her up, moving her to an undisclosed location, and then using her as a hostage to bring you, Alex, under control.” Both women looked like they were about to explode, but they managed to keep it under control.

“I've got to hand it to whoever set this up. On the surface, at least, it’s a brilliant plan,” Stark said with his usual sarcastic smirk. “Somehow, though, I don't think you'd go for it. You'd likely start tearing people's arms off until they told you where they were hiding her, then fly to the rescue. Right?”

“God damned straight.” Alex said under her breath.

Stark grinned again. “Thought so. Anyway, at my instruction Agent Rosenberg has been diverting their attention and keeping them off you for about three months now. It’s taken us that long to identify all the people in SHIELD on this task force. We're going now to confront the man in charge of it all and tell him his task force has been disbanded.”

“And has it been? Disbanded, I mean?” Louise asked.

“Oh yes. Everyone involved has been notified except for one person.” Stark turned the last corner and stood in front of an office door. The sign near it read _Jasper Sitwell. Level 8. Special Projects Division._ “And we're about to let him know in person.”

With yet another smirk, Stark knocked on Sitwell's door. There was a muffled call of “Yes?” from inside, at which Stark opened the door with a flourish. Alex and Louise followed the SHIELD Director in. Coulson and Dunne took up positions on either side of the door. The lone man in the office, Jasper Sitwell, Alex presumed, was sitting at his desk. The agent was ignoring Tony Stark in favor of staring open-mouthed at the two women.

To Alex, Sitwell looked a bit like a nerd. He had the standard whippet build of a chess club geek and hardly looked like a dangerous espionage agent at all. More like the guy who ran the AV club back at Sunnydale High. The man wore wireless eyeglasses, and his hair was cut in the classic Marine Corps high-and-tight.

“Hey, Jasper. How's the day treating you?” Without being invited Stark sat down at one of the tables in front of Sitwell's desk and proceeded to put his feet up on the other man's desk. Sitwell still hadn't closed his mouth, but he did glance at Stark for a moment before returning his attention to the two women. Alex showed Louise to the office's other chair before taking up a position behind her partner. She crossed her arms under her breasts, which not only served to make them stand out even more, but in her new seemingly-tighter costume, made every muscle in Alex's arms and shoulders stand out.

“Um – uh – Director Stark?” Sitwell finally closed his mouth, but hadn't stopped staring. He seemed to be avoiding Alex's eyes, not that it helped. “How can I help you?”

“As you can see, we have a couple of visitors to the facility today. I wanted to introduce them to you. You see, Superwoman here has agreed to work with the Avengers, and as such she'll be receiving the standard SHIELD clearance package. Lady Clairol – “ Alex hid the wince, but Louise actually giggled “ – as Superwoman's only family, will be receiving the advanced tier dependent clearance for all the usual areas.”

“But, Mr. Stark, we've currently – I was under the impression that you – “ The agent finally stopped trying and collected himself. “What about the active operation we have ongoing regarding these two women, sir?”

 

“Yes, about that.” Stark inspected his fingernails for a second before meeting Sitwell's eyes. “Turns out that the operation in question was never authorized. At least not by me, and as Director of SHIELD, you'd think I'd have some sort of say over what my agents did and did not due.”

“What?” If Sitwell were faking his confusion, then in Alex's opinion he was an Oscar-caliber actor. “Mr. Stark, I got a call from the Justice Department, they said they needed, um, well, they needed us to find and detain Ms. Fulford – uh, Ms. Harris, I mean -- there to bring a dangerous terrorist under control.” He glanced at Alex, then quickly looked away. “The terrorist in question being Ms. Starr.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Well, guess what, genius. Not a terrorist. I’m not even Karen Starr.”

“But what about – “

“Jasper, currently there are no warrants outstanding for Superwoman here in any nation on the planet. She is not wanted for anything. Not a thing. So, the question is, who was it that called you and asked SHIELD to assist in an illegal detainment and kidnapping?” Stark checked his fingernails again.

“The attorney general, Alberto Gonzales. He made the request on behalf of the president. I assumed since we were getting the request directly from the US government, that it was authorized.” Sitwell looked uncomfortable.

“Jasper, you do remember that SHIELD is chartered by the UN and not by the US government, right? We don't answer to the answer to the attorney general. We do not answer to the president. No matter what they might think, we are an independent entity.”

“Right.” Sitwell nodded. “I take it that the operation to apprehend Karen Starr has been called off.”

Alex took a half-step forward. “You take it correctly, 'Jasper.'”

**XxxxxxX**

Alex tugged at her top again as she followed Stark out of the elevator. It was still clinging too tightly around her boobs. She eyed the metal chest-piece Stark wore as Iron Man and rolled her eyes. _A problem no man would ever understand._ Tony Stark was in his armor, but the face-plate was up and away from his face.

“So, your membership card will get you access to the elevator.” It took her a moment to catch up to what Stark had been saying. “It's also keyed to the balcony entrances for those of us capable of going airborne. Or, you know, Spider-Man. On this level, we've got a working kitchen, a dining room, a couple of spare bedrooms for those times you need to stay in town overnight, a sort of media playroom with a big TV, a stereo, and so on. Simon insisted we get a game system, so there's an X-Box in there if you're into it. And of course, the meeting room.”

The pair of them went through the indicated door, and Alex found herself stopping abruptly. Sitting at the large table in the meeting room were three of her new teammates: Wonder Man, Wasp, and Spider-Man. The three of them had been talking, but their conversation came to a screeching halt when they saw her. Iron Man looked to the veteran Avengers to their newest member and back again. “Right. Guys, this is Superwoman. Superwoman, this is the guys.” He pointed Alex to a chair at the end of the table. “Guys, I did tell you all she was coming in today, right?”

Alex gave the seated Avengers a friendly if nervous wave and sat. She propped herself up off the seat for a second when she caught her own cape on her ass, but then sat again.

“Um. Yeah, right. Guess I forgot it was today.” Spider-Man was the first to respond. He leapt to the ceiling above her and extended an upside-down hand. “The amazing Spider-Man, beater of bad guys and rescuer of damsels in distress. Big fan. Love what you're doing down in Miami. And you've got wonderful muscles. How're ya doing?”

Alex couldn't help but laugh as she took his hand in greeting. “Yeah, yeah. My 'wonderful muscles' are up here, bug-boy.” She tapped the side of her head. When Spider-Man became suddenly still, she added, “X-ray eyeballs. If it’s not ultra-dense, I can see through it. Those weren't my muscles you were ogling.”

“Right. Uh, sorry.” Spider-Man shrugged and Alex laughed again. “Wait, does that mean you know what I look like under this mask?

By that time, the Wasp and Wonder Man had approached. “Uh, hello. Janet van Dyne. Nice, uh, to meet you I guess.” Alex shook Wasps hand, then repeated it with Wonder Man. “So, um, anyway, we were just talking about things. You know, villain activity, politics, movies. Just shooting the breeze.”

“Oh, cool, yeah.” Alex waved the air. “By all means, don't let me make you feel awkward. And yeah, Spidey, I know what you look like it. Don't worry. Mum's the word.” They seemed to relax at this.

Janet smiled at Alex, and seemed about to speak when the nervous-if-friendly atmosphere was broken.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?”

Carol Danvers had arrived. She stood just inside the doorway of the meeting room. Behind her, still in the door, was a visibly confused Hank Pym dressed in his Yellowjacket togs.

“Oh, hi there, Carol.” Alex gave her a friendly wave, trying to put as much snark into the gesture as possible. “How are you doing today?”

“What the fuck is she doing here, Tony?” Captain Marvel stabbed a finger toward Alex. “And why the fuck aren't you trying to arrest her?”

“It turns out that the same answer applies to both questions.” Stark said. His voice was pleasant and obviously pitched to calm Carol Danvers down. “She's an Avenger, so she has a place at the table and thus attends meetings. I'm not arresting her because she's an Avenger, and there's no reason to arrest her.”

“She's a wanted terrorist!”

“No, I'm not. There aren't any warrants out for my arrest. I'm not on the FBI's Most Wanted. I'm not a terrorist.” Alex smiled at the other woman. “I'm an Avenger. A superhero. You know, one of the good guys. I've got a shiny new ID card and everything! We're going to be pals, now!” At Alex's words, Captain Marvel lunged. Alex caught her extended fist almost casually and held it in place. “Last time this happened I broke six bones in your hand. How about we all sit down and talk like adults.” With that, Alex gave Carol's fist a gentle shove. It still had enough force behind it to push Captain Marvel backwards and into a chair. The impact caused the chair to rock backward, but it didn't topple. The other people in the room all began shouting – at Alex, at Danvers, even at each other.

“ENOUGH!” Tony Stark flipped the visor down on his helmet and activated the suit's loudspeakers. Everyone in the room but Alex winced. “Jesus, it’s like dealing with a pair of feuding six-year-olds. Cut it out already!”

Everyone was quiet. Everyone.

“She started it.” The mutter from Alex earned her a glare from Iron Man and a chuckle from Spider-Man.

“I don't care. That's enough from both of you. Christ. We don't need it, so whatever issues you two have with each other, let them die already.” Stark flipped his face-plate back up. He turned his attention to Captain Marvel. “Try for a little professionalism, for crying out loud.” Then to Alex, “And you, stop provoking her.”

Again, everyone was quiet for a moment.

“All right?” At Stark's question, Alex nodded. “You?” This question directed to Carol Danvers. The other woman just nodded. “Good. Now, let's move on. We do have things we need to talk about. First of which is, we have a new member. Over the weekend, I invited Superwoman to join us. I think she'll make a fine Avenger. Not only does she have a good head on her shoulders, she's seriously interested in helping people out. And not one of us can deny she's a heavy hitter.”

“Yeah, but as Carol said, I thought she was wanted. Isn't she wanted?” Hank Pym asked.

“Not currently. All warrants against me were vacated.” Alex shrugged.

“What about Bullseye and the Radioactive Man? You killed them in cold blood.” Captain Marvel's voice had an edge to it. She wasn't attacking – physically, at least – but clearly still had problem with Alex's presence.

“They both had 'shoot on sight' federal warrants.” Iron Man answered on Alex's behalf. “As Superwoman was registered with the government, technically she counted as a federal law enforcement agent acting against known criminals.”

“And it wasn't cold-blood. I was – I sort of lost it. Bullseye nearly killed my partner. She nearly died.” Alex's face clouded over at the memory of Louise, covered in blood. “I – I won't say I regret it, but I don't know if I'd have killed him if I had a chance to do it all over. Maybe, maybe not.” Alex winced as the image of Henry Peter Gyrich, floating away from earth toward the depths of space, popped into her head.

“So you're not a killer, just a mad dog?” Captain Marvel smirked.

“That's uncalled for, Carol.” Wonder Man shifted in his seat. “She's not the first hero to go a little crazy after one of their family got hurt. And she's absolutely not the first Avenger to join the team after being thought a villain.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hawkeye killed Egghead. Spider Man beat that guy – whatsisname? After his aunt got hurt. Beat him within an inch of his life. Iron Man's killed people. Hell, Captain America's killed people.” Wonder Man shrugged. “It happens. We try not to, but it happens. I mean, you're military, aren't you, Lieutenant Colonel Carol Danvers? Tell me you've never killed people in the line of duty.”

Danvers fumed. “But what about the fact that she was a wanted criminal?”

Wonder Man shrugged again. “So was I.” At Captain Marvel's shocked look, he continued. “It's true. I started out as a supervillain. So did Hawkeye, Quicksilver, Scarlet Witch, the Hulk. “

“Swordsman, the Black Knight, Sandman, the Living Lightning.” Wasp added.

Wonder man nodded, clearly getting into the subject. “I don't think Sandman and Living Lightning count, since they were always sort of probationary, but there was also Ares. He fought Thor. Oh, hey, can't forget your predecessor, the original Captain Marvel. Then there was that time that Tigra –”

“Not to mention myself.” Black Widow added as she entered the conference room. “I originally came to this country as a KGB spy. There was also Doctor Druid, and Power Man; I believe Mister Cage originally came to public notice fighting Captain America.”

“Okay, I get the point!” Danvers was still fuming. “I still don't like her being here.”

“Your objection is noted, Carol.” Iron Man turned to Black Widow. “You're late.”

“Yes, and I apologize for my lateness. I had a lunch date with an old friend and we got carried away.” The Widow gave everyone around the table a quick nod. “I hope I didn't delay anything.”

“Not at all. Completely not a problem. How is Mr. Murdock doing, anyway?”

“He is well. Better than he was. Now, what were we discussing?”

“I was just introducing our newest member.” Stark waved his hand in Alex's direction. “And there were some vocal objections to her presence.”

“Ah. Understandable. Well, welcome to the team. What else?” Widow gave Alex another nod, then turned her attention back to Stark.

“The other issue I wanted to discuss is the Registration Act.” That got everyone's attention. Stark was quiet for a moment before continuing. “I've been reconsidering – after some careful thought, I've concluded that the whole thing was a mistake. Maybe – maybe not the idea, I mean. People with powers who want to be heroes should know what they're doing. Be trained. Operate to some sort of standard and all. But the way it was implemented was just – and I went along with it for a long time without actually thinking about it.”

Captain Marvel leaned forward. “What's the problem? I mean, what are you objecting to?”

“How about the fact that people's rights are being trampled? Seriously, I got told that according the law, I wasn't a human being, but a weapon of mass destruction, and because of that I had no rights.” Alex interjected.

“I wasn't asking – “ Marvel caught dirty looks from Iron Man, Wasp, and Black Widow simultaneously. She stopped and took a deep breath. “Sometimes sacrifices have to be made to protect society. It’s tragic that we're the ones having to sacrifice, but you don't see me whining about my rights. I do what I'm told.”

“Yeah? What about the oath you swore when you put on the uniform and became an Air Force officer? The part about supporting and defending the Constitution. Ever hear of the 5th Amendment? It forbids imprisonment without a trial, among other things. Yet people are being sent to this Gulag thing without ever seeing the inside of a courtroom. And that's just one example. The way people with superpowers are being treated is wrong.” There were nods around the table at Alex's words. It came as a surprise. Alex had assumed that, since these people had stuck with Stark instead of following Captain America into hiding, that they'd agree with what the law was doing.

“If they complied with the law --” Marvel began.

“They shouldn't have to comply with an illegal law. That's the point.”

“Bills of attainder. That's what changed my mind.” Stark's quiet comment broke the silence.

“What's a bill of attainder?” Wonder Man asked.

“It’s a law that makes a person a criminal just for existing.” Stark said. He turned to Alex. “What was the example you used? A law that made being redheaded illegal. Only this time, it’s having superpowers. The registration act makes people criminals just for having powers.”

“But it isn't just having powers. It’s having powers and trying to be a superhero with them. The law says you can't do that without first being trained and registered.” Marvel responded.

“Tell that to Luke Cage. When the law passed, he retired.” Simon Williams shook his head; he looked like a man who was realizing some nasty truths he'd never considered before. “He took the costume off and went home to be with his wife and kid. Said he was giving up the lifestyle for good. Didn't stop a SHIELD assault team from showing up at his door looking to arrest him for non-compliance. Or Captain America.” Wonder Man tapped the table in front of him. “SHIELD tried to arrest him for refusing to arrest other people. I mean, how is that a crime, in the first place. And in the second place, they did that _**before**_ the law went into effect. What the hell was up with that?”

“It wasn't his place to decide what laws he would enforce and what laws he wouldn't,” Captain Marvel began. It was a point, but a weak one.

Alex snorted. “Yeah, but if a cop decides he's not going to pull over speeders anymore, he's given a reprimand, maybe docked some pay. They don't physically attack him and try to throw him in jail.” Carol Danvers didn't have anything to say to that.

Nor did she react when Stark continued on her behalf. “Another problem was that SHIELD waited all of three minutes after the law was signed before attacking Luke Cage. Normally, when laws that make things that were previously legal suddenly illegal, there's a grace period. You've got a certain number of days or weeks to come into compliance with the law. We gave Power Man five minutes.”

“You didn't complain when it happened.” Again, Captain Marvel made a point, but it was a weak one.

Stark shrugged. It was barely visible under his armor. “Yeah, well, I've changed my mind. About a lot of things.”

“The Registration Act is still the law of the land, and we are still required to enforce it.” Danvers crossed her arms over her chest. “All you're doing is setting yourself up for a trip to the Gulag.”

“Well, I'm working on changing the law. As for being sent to the Gulag, on what charge? We're all registered here, remember? Even our newest member is following the law.” Stark sat back. “As for being arrested for not enforcing it, I don't remember that requirement being a part of the law, and I should know, seeing as I wrote the thing.”

“It’s still better that people with powers be trained! So that we know they are safe!” Marvel said. “Damn it, we license people to drive, don't we?”

“Yeah,” Wasp responded. “But we don't license them to live. Tony's right. It was a good idea that was badly executed.”

“Carol, let me --” Alex began, but she was interrupted.

“I didn't give you permission to use my first name. You're not my friend and you don't know me well enough.”

“Okay, fine.” Alex shrugged it off. If Danvers wanted to be a douche about it, Alex would let her. “Didn't mean to offend her. Lieutenant Colonel Danvers, let me ask you a question. It’s one thing to insist that someone like Wonder Man or myself or even you – people who can tear down buildings with their bare hands and really have the potential to do some damage – it’s one thing to insist that people like us register and get trained so we don't hurt people. But what about people who aren't like us?”

For the first time since the conversation began, Captain Marvel looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what about this guy I heard about the other day. Lives in New Jersey. His superpower is that he can digest anything he can swallow. He's immune to poisons, immune to food-born bacteria, and if he can swallow it, he can live off of it. The guy demonstrated his power by – I shit you not – eating a bicycle one piece at a time. Got his picture on the cover of the National Enquirer.”

“What about him?”

“My question is, what sort of training were you planning on having this dude go through to make him less of a menace to society?” Alex's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“Good question.” Wonder Man turned to Captain Marvel. “And if he doesn't comply, should we put this guy on the Most Wanted list?”

“Don't be stupid. What possible use would such a power – “

“That's what I'm saying.” Alex nodded. “This law unfairly puts some people in danger of jail despite not being a threat. Take my partner, for example – “

“Wait – your partner has powers? Then why isn't she registered?” Stark stared at Alex. “She's not refusing because of some political protest. You're registered, after all.”

“Because like I said, her power is useless.” Alex rolled her eyes at his expression. “Oh come on, Tony. Her power is that she can change her hair color at will. Ooooh, scary monsters. She's got one of the most weak-assed non-combat-oriented powers you could ever imagine. Yes, technically she's super-powered, but only technically.” Stark kept looking at her in that annoying way he had. “Okay, think about this: would you make someone whose only so-called superpower was that her skin was transparent register for the Avengers Initiative? I’ve met a woman with that power, you know.”

“Uh, no, I don't think so.”

“How about someone whose power was the ability to shoot flower petals from their hands like confetti? I’ve met that person too.”

“I don't think – “

“Right. Well, that's where my partner lies in terms of power. Like I said, I've met people with both of those so-called 'super' powers, and my partner has a power just like that. She's got a power, but it’s silly and useless for the most part.”

“So why isn't she in compliance with the law?” This time it was Danvers. “It is the law, after all.”

“Because the government would want to come in, test her, train her to fight when she shouldn't have to, and then put her on a list just in case, that's why.” Alex shook her head at the thought of it. “It is unconstitutional to make it illegal for someone to exist, that's why. And lastly, I'm not going to let anyone touch my girlfriend, just so they can be seen as 'doing something' rather than doing something, that's why.”

Carol Danvers smirked. “From what I hear, anyone who meets her price can touch your girlfriend.” Everyone in the room winced. They'd all read the background information on Superwoman while they were hunting her, and that included information on her known associates, including Louise Fulford. The only sound was Wonder Man's sotto voce _oh shit_ , a sentiment shared by everyone else in the room.

Alex stared at Captain Marvel, not really believing what had just happened. It was like Danvers had only one setting: full bore asshole. She gritted her teeth and imagined hitting Carol Danvers in the throat with the edge of her hand so hard that the bitch turned into a human Pez dispenser. She counted to ten in Kryptonian, _backward_ , just to calm herself down.

It worked.

Sort of.

Stark opened his mouth to speak, obviously about to try and make some peace, but Alex cut him off. “Shut it. This is between me and her.”

Alex returned Carol's glare. Finally, after the anger had subsided, she just sighed and said, “Look, Carol, here's the problem. I think you're a complete and total bitch, and I think you've earned that opinion. And I'm completely tired of you and your bullshit. I am so tired of you and your bullshit, in fact, that I no longer really trust myself when it comes to you. You have aggravated me to the point that if you were to attack me again, like you did earlier, I'd be perfectly happy to hurt you, badly. In fact, I could put you in the ground and never once lose the smile on my face.”

Alex sighed again. “Lady, you are an arrogant self-entitled bitch who thinks your own shit has no odor. I know all about you, Carol Danvers. I know how you're a dry drunk, and bitch don't you _**dare**_ talk to me about how alcoholism is a disease you can't control, because I don't give a shit. I know how bad drunks can get from experience and you get no absolutely no fucking sympathy for me for being out of control. I know how you like to sleep around with your colleagues.” Alex glanced at Tony Stark, who was suddenly looking sheepish, and at Simon Williams, who only shrugged. “And I know how you once attacked a single mom and tore her daughter away from her because you were pissed off that the mom in question didn't do precisely what you wanted her to do. That was fucking classy, let me tell you. 'Captain Marvel' my ass. You're not worthy to shine Billy Batson's shoes, and here you are trying to take his name away.”

“You people. I swear to God. You people call yourselves heroes, but all you're doing is running around fighting each other. When was the last time you fed the hungry? What was the last time you helped irrigate a desert? When was the last time you were there for someone who just needed a friend? That's what being a hero is all about. You're all like children, throwing temper tantrums.”

Alex made herself deflate. “And I'm just as bad. I try to help people, not just beat up on bad guys. But I get caught up in the same sort of bullshit.” All around the table, the other Avengers looked sheepish.

Carol Danvers just glared. It was clear she was trying to find something cutting and effective to say.

“Marvel, I don't want to fight you, and trust me, the last thing you want is to get into a fight with me.” Danvers started to reply, but Alex beat her to the punch. “Seriously, you do not want to be on my bad side. If I wanted, I could carve you into pieces like a pig gone to slaughter just by looking at you. I can shatter all your bones merely with the sound of my voice. I can boil your blood, or freeze you in place. And even here, surrounded by our teammates – _OUR_ teammates, Carol, not just yours, since Tony invited me into this little club – I could do these things to you before anyone else here could even attempt to stop me.”

“You really think you're that badass?”

“No, Carol. I don't think I'm that badass, I know I'm that badass. You can't imagine the hurt I can put on you. I can't even imagine the hurt I can put on you. Not really.” Alex took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The thing is, I don't _really_ want to do any of that. You see, I'm not really a bad person. I don't like hurting people at all. I try not to do it. And right now, I'm trying to be a team player, here. I'm trying to go along to get along, be nice to everyone, maybe work together to do some good. Which means I don't want to hurt you. Not at all, even when you're at your most bitch-like. And that's because I was asked by Tony to give it a try and see if we could get along and work together. This is me, trying.”

“I still don't want you here.” Danvers crossed her arms in front of her chest, the anger pouring from the woman in waves.

“Yeah I get that. And I'd love it if this country would lose about 99% of its inherent homophobia and work harder to feed and house the homeless, but it looks like neither one of us is getting what we want today.” Alex stopped talking and shook her head. “Look, I'll make you a deal. You stay out of my face, I'll stay out of yours. That way, we can work together like one big dysfunctional family. Will you meet me halfway on that, at least?” Alex stared at the other woman. Ms. Marvel – Captain Marvel now, despite Alex still feeling that Billy Batson was the only person worthy of the title – sent a glare toward Stark, who nodded back to her.

Danvers turned back to Alex and merely glared, but she didn't say a word.

“Glad we had this little talk. Tony? If you need me, I'll be on the roof thinking things over. Come get me if you need me.” Alex sighed again and left. She just wanted to think, but more than that, she wanted the solitude. But before she left – “Oh, and Carol? If you ever say anything like that about my partner again – if you ever make a reference to her being a whore and I hear about it – I'll rip one of your legs off and beat you to death with it.” Alex stalked out of the meeting room and headed to the nearest staircase that had rooftop access. She needed to think. Behind her, Alex could hear Carol Danvers continuing to complain about Alex's presence. She shook her head when Danvers said something about wanting to be there to tell Tony 'I told you so.'

When Captain Marvel finally left, Alex could feel nothing but relief. She had told Danvers the truth: she really didn't want to have to hurt the woman. But with this attitude, Alex was coming to believe that some sort of showdown was inevitable.

**XxxxxxX**


	26. If This Goes On...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“Just fire and – flames – just flames – are pouring from the buildings now! There's cars toppled, buildings, entire – just – crushed and crumbled! I'm not sure if it's safe to report from my vantage point! I – I really need to leave! Civil defenses inform me that the surrounding areas are – are in ruin! I – I see some people running now! In the – the opinion of this reporter – if this nation, or in fact, the world, ever needed heroes, that time is now! That time is now!” – **Michael Kohler** , "That Time is Now"_

**XxxxxxX**

“Don't lose him, Delko. We can't let this one get away.” Lieutenant Horatio Caine grabbed for the suicide handle above his head as the car skidded hard around the corner. In the driver's seat, next to him, Detective Eric Delektorsky – ‘Delko’ to his friends at the crime lab – didn't bother to spare a glance at the other cop.

“I know, Horatio, I know! I'm on him!”

Their car followed in the wake of the hijacked armored car. The stolen truck in question was leaving a visible path through traffic; its engine power and reinforced body was allowing the large, heavy vehicle to shove aside other cars like a linebacker making a break through a defensive line.

“Watch it! Watch it!” The two cops braced as they sideswiped a wrecked car, then straightened. There was only a moment between the impact and rejoining the pursuit, but it was enough for the armored car to pull away from them.

“Damn it, we're losing them!” Delko was almost growling. Their involuntary delay was just enough to allow traffic to begin closing the hole behind the armored car, and going was beginning to get dicey. “They're getting away!”

Caine didn't respond, causing Delko to glance – just a second – toward his boss. “Horatio?”

Horatio Caine was staring out his window, looking at the sky. “I don't think they're going anywhere, Delko. I think help's finally arrived.” Where Caine had spoken previously in some urgency, now he was his usual ice cold calm.

Delko cocked an eyebrow and took a quick look at the sky, just in time to see a blue-and-red blue streak downward out of the clouds. The streak touched down in the street ahead of the charging armored car, revealing itself to be the costumed form of a superhero: Superwoman had arrived.

“It's her!” Delko almost shouted.

“Indeed. What the hell is the driver thinking?” Caine braced himself against the dash board of the car. “He's rushing right at her – Delko, back off! Back off, now!” The car's nose dipped toward the road as Delko stood on the brakes. The armored car left the two detectives and their car in the dust as it sped forward.

“He going to ram her!” Delko shouted.

“For all the good it will do him!” Horatio Caine whipped off his sunglasses and stared. “They don't call her Superwoman for nothing!” The front end of the armored truck smashed into the woman in blue, wrapping around her. The truck's tail sprang into the air. For a moment, the armored car was airborne as it flipped over the motionless superhero before landing on its roof and sliding to a stop against a parked car.

The heroine stepped to the back of the armored truck and almost casually ripped the locked back door off its hinges. Superwoman tossed a man in a suit and a lab coat out of the truck, then dragged a heavy-looking piece of machinery from the wreckage. Caine and Delko watched as the woman yanked a soft-ball sized sphere out of the machine, leaned back, and threw the piece so hard into the air it disappeared.

Superwoman looked at the cops, sitting in their car. She looked damned heroic, in Caine's opinion. “I believe that's one less nuclear weapon to worry about, detectives.”

“And.... _**CUT!**_ ”

**XxxxxxX**

Everyone relaxed.

Actors David Caruso and Adam Rodriguez climbed from the car and stepped down from the filming trailer it was mounted on. They stepped over the cables connecting the microphones in the prop car to the portable recording studio and accepted bottles of water from their respective assistants.

Alex extended a hand to the stuntman she tossed – as gently as she could, given the circumstances – onto the safety pads and helped the man to his feet. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem. All part of the job, right?” The stuntman grinned at Alex – she returned it, before turning toward the medic for a quick check just in case. Alex watched for a moment before walking over to the front end of the armored truck. She snickered a little at the body-shaped indention in the truck's grill.

“Hey, Simon? You coming out or do I have to come in and get you?”

The driver's side door of the up-ended truck opened, and Wonder Man – in full costume as the getaway driver – climbed out. “Sweet of you to check up. I'm fine, of course. Just wanted to post a pic I took of you as I was flipping over to the net.”

“Cool!” Alex looked around, not sure what to do now that her 'scene' was finished. This was just a cameo, after all; as far as her involvement in the episode they were filming, her work was done. “So what now?”

“Well,” Wonder Man said as he lifted the wrecked armored truck and returned it to its wheels. “Now you and I get to stand back and watch them do pick-ups, and when everyone is done, we talk to the bursar about the checks. Mine's going to Ronald McDonald House. How about you?”

“The Kent Foundation.” Alex stretched a moment. Simon had hit her with the truck full bore, and while it did absolutely no damage to her in any real sense, she still sometimes just felt such things. It was a weird quirk that she figured went back to when she thought she was Xander. Alex smirked as the various members of the film crew stopped to watch what the stretch did to her in the tights.

“Don't think I'm familiar with that one.” Wonder Man, on the other hand, hadn't even flinched. He was used to Alex and how pneumatic she was in the Superwoman tights. “Come on, we'll find a cup of coffee. So, this Kent Foundation, why haven't I ever heard of them?”

“They're more interested in actually helping people than getting their name out there.” Alex followed Simon to craft services for the coffee. “They help the homeless. Mostly in the LA area right now but from what I understand there are plans to spread out their operations to other cities. They do good work. Make sure the folks in need get food and medical care.” The two stars of the show, Caruso and Rodriguez, were still there sipping on bottles of water and discussing the rest of their day. When the two heroes approached, the actors perked up.

“Oh, hey. Wanted to say that was really exciting to watch. Never seen one of you guys work up close like that.” Adam Rodriguez, the actor playing Detective Delko, was stridently keeping his eyes on Alex's face, while Caruso wasn't quite successful hiding his leer. It didn't surprise Alex; she'd been warned that David Caruso was a womanizer on top of being an arrogant jackass. “That didn't hurt, did it?”

“Not at all. I've been hit by much harder than that. Heck, Wonder Man here has hit me much harder. I'm sure that crash shook him up much worse than being run into affected me.” Alex grinned at Simon, who just muttered a quiet 'yeah, thanks a lot' under his voice.

“So how was all this arranged? The producers told us that you two would be in the episode, but we thought you'd both be doing cameos. You know, show up, wave to the camera, and you're done. The stunt-work came as a surprise.” Caruso finally took his attention off Alex's tits long enough to ask Wonder Man a question.

“I'm actually a member of SAG-AFTRA, not to mention SAMP-ISA.” Wonder Man shrugged. At Alex's look, Simon explained. “SAG-AFTRA stands for 'Screen Actors Guild-American Federation of Radio and Television Artists. SAMP-ISA stands for Stuntman's Association of Motion Pictures-International Stuntman's Association. Anyway –” he turned his attention to the actors. “When the producers called Superwoman here about making a cameo appearance, what with her being a Miami superhero and your show being set in Miami, it just made sense for me to come along with her to ease her to it. They agreed to let me do some stunt-work for them if Superwoman agreed to do the walk-on – all for charity, of course.”

Alex just nodded. “I agreed because how many times am I going to be asked to do appearances in television shows, right? And like Wonder Man said, it’s for charity.”

“Are you kidding? After today, you'll be getting phone calls every week.” Rodriguez laughed. Alex glanced at Wonder Man, who just nodded. “Trust me, once the shows know you're willing to do charity appearances, they'll figure out a way to set their shows in Miami just to have you do a walk-on.”

“Oh, wonderful.” Alex couldn't help but laugh, herself. “I guess it will depend on the show. I mean, I like that new show, _Dexter_? But I can't see fitting into it very well. But this one, sure. Who knows, maybe I'll do some more appearances with you guys.”

“That would be very cool,” Rodriguez nodded. “Maybe we could even do some location work with you in Miami. We don't shoot there very often. Only when they need a definitive landmark or something really recognizable as being in Miami.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Alex smirked. “Never would have guessed Long Beach stood in for Miami in your show. It’s been a while since I've been in LA.”

Caruso nodded. “Long Beach actually has a long history of doubling for places in Florida before. Its stood in for Orlando, Tampa, lots of Miami, of course. Cheaper than flying to Florida every month or so. We did a bunch of stuff during the first season down here, but now? Long Beach.”

“I'm willing to bet that _Dexter_ eventually moves its shooting locations here, too.” Wonder Man laughed at Alex's face.

“Wait. You mean none of the shows set in Miami were actually shot in Miami? I mean, other than a few times just to get the local color?” she asked.

“ _Miami Vice._ ” Wonder Man said. The two actors nodded.

“What?”

“ _Miami Vice._ Back in the 80s. Most of the production actually occurred in Florida.” Wonder Man grinned at her and shrugged.

“Ah.” There was a beep in Alex's ear. “Hold on, guys, I've got to take this.” She stepped away from the craft services table, not really listening as Simon explained to the two actors that all members of the Avengers wore small, earbud-sized 'cell phones' designed by Stark Industries. Alex tapped her ear. “Hey, babe!” Had it been one of her new teammates, the beep would have been different.

 

_“Hey there, beautiful. How's LA?”_ Louise's voice sounded slightly tinny.

“Long Beach, actually. And its sunny and ridiculous. We just got done shooting the scene in which Simon ran a truck into me. Should be done and home by this evening. I think Simon wants to go somewhere and get dinner, but I'll be on my way home after that. You don't mind, do you?”

_“Nope. I'm probably going to be at the law library until late.”_ Louise the Lawyer was going to be the cause of great celebration in a few years. For now, Louise the Law Student was enough to give Alex a big smile. _“But I **hrzzt** until you **mmzzzt** \--”_

“Louise? Can you hear – “ Alex broke off as all sound from her earbud cut off. She was suddenly surrounded by a translucent box of light. Wonder Man ran up, his mouth moving silently; he made sure the two actors weren't getting any closer before approaching. Alex punched at the seemingly solid wall of light – it surrounded her on all sides, including under her feet and above her head. She put all her strength into punching through it, but nothing happened. Simon tried the same thing from the outside, and still nothing happened. “Wonder Man! I can't get out! Can you hear me? I can't ---”

The world began to move around Alex – everything outside the light suddenly shifted upward, like the box was slipping through the ground. The light got very bright, even for her Kryptonian eyes. Alex blinked them clear and saw –

**XxxxxxX**

Wonder Man stared at the patch of asphalt that had swallowed Superwoman whole. There was no sign she was ever there. He ignored the two actors and their panicked questions to tap at his earbud. “Wonder Man to anyone. Code One Alert! We have an Avenger down! Scramble.” He waited for someone to respond. “Hello? This is Wonder Man! Respond please!”

There was no response other than silence.

**XxxxxxX**

Carol Danvers lowered the binoculars. “I rather enjoyed that.” She gave the man standing next to her a quick glance before raising them to her eyes again. The man was tall, with a receding hairline and a carefully maintained Van Dyke beard. He was dressed in prison fatigues and wore an explosive control collar around his neck. “Yes, I definitely enjoyed that. You do good work, baron.”

“The proper form would be 'your excellency.” Baron Karl Mordo, perhaps the second-most powerful human sorcerer on the planet Earth, perhaps next in line to the title Sorcerer Supreme, pointed to the thing around his neck. “Do we still have a deal?”

“We still have a deal.” Danvers nodded to the two soldiers – American soldiers, she noted for the fifth time, and not SHIELD agents – who stood a small distance away. “We'll remove the control collar now. The implanted explosives will dissolve within 24 hours and you'll – aheh – eliminate them with whatever liquids you've consumed today as well. Until that time, be aware we can still blow you to hell, so don't think of attacking us. In exchange for removing a dire threat to US security, the president officially grants your pardon. Congratulations, you're a free man, provided you don't get cute.”

“Madame, I'm a man of my word. Granted, I don't give my word very often, but when I do, it’s bound in stone.” The two soldiers deactivated and removed the collar. Mordo rubbed at his neck before smiling.

“So where did you send her?”

The baron smiled. “She's no longer in this dimension and thus is no longer able to effect events here. Does it matter where she ended up, as long as she can no longer interfere with the government's plans?”

“No, I suppose not.” Carol shrugged. “You know, until I found your name on a government document, I thought you were dead.”

“I'm sure you did.” Mordo's smile got wider. “Now, Madame, I bid you adieu.”

Danvers stood back as the man muttered something in a language she didn't recognize. Within seconds he had vanished. Carol nodded to herself, then addressed the soldiers. “Take down the jammers and clear the area. Good work, everyone.” She took an offered phone – it was a disposable burner – and punched the first pre-programmed number. When the other end picked up, she said, “It’s done. Send someone to pick up the girlfriend.” and ended he call.

Danvers casually crushed the burner phone in her hand and turned back to stare down at Simon Williams. The man had no idea what was about to happen to him. None of the Avengers did.

**XxxxxxX**

Louise stirred. There were voices. Indistinct. She couldn't hear – couldn't understand what –

The door slammed open. Louise was a dingy, gray room with no windows and only one door. The light was coming from a single bulb protected by a cage, high in the ceiling. She stared around her, unsure of what happened. Last thing she remembered, she was at the University of Miami, in the law library. A man had come, had asked her a question, and then – then nothing. She tried sitting up, but her body wasn't quite cooperating.

“Wake up, bitch!”

Three men were silhouetted in the doorway. Louise stared at them, then down at herself. What was she wearing? It was a dirty orange in color, and looked like a sack. This wasn't what she had been wearing. Where were her clothes?

One of the men crossed toward Louise, a pair of shackles swinging from his hand. He grabbed Louise by the arm, lifting her bodily, slamming her face down into the hard metal ledge she hadn't previously noted that was supposedly serving as a bunk. The man drove his knee into her back between her shoulder blades.

Louise screamed as he wrenched her arms back and closed them in the shackles.

“I can't believe this weak-assed whore is the famous Louise Fulford. I thought she was supposed to be some kind of heavyweight.”

“You're thinking of her girlfriend. Yeah, not only is she a terrorist piece of shit, she's a perverted carpet-muncher too.” There was another laugh.

Louise cried out again as the shackles bit into the flesh of her wrists. One of the men, the same one who called her a whore, laughed at her cry. “You – you've made a mistake! I'm not – I haven't done anything!”

“Shut up, bitch!” The man yanked her to her feet. He shoved her into the wall, again face first.

“Please! I haven't –“

The man behind her slammed a fist into her lower back. Louise bounced off the wall from the force, her voice cut off along with her air. The world disappeared as the man slid a thick hood over her head.

“I said shut your fucking hole!”

Someone unseen grabbed her other arm and she was dragged out and into the corridor. It was impossible to tell where she was taken, as there were several twists and turns, as well as at least one staircase. Finally, she was shoved into a chair and the hood was lifted from her head.

Louise blinked and squinted; a harsh white light was being blasted into her face. She barely made out the form of another person on the other side of the table in front of her. It looked like a man. He was unmoving, his hands folded in front of him.

Louise's eyes started to water. She dropped her head to her chest, to give her eyes a break from the glare, only to have a someone behind her take a handful of her hair and yank her head back.

“Do you know why you're here, Miss Fulford?”

“No, please, I didn't do anything.” Louise tried to shy away, but again the hand on her head forced her eyes to the lights.

“Let me be more precise. Did you plan and participate in the murder of federal agents Lester Smith, Chen Lu Shan, and Macdonald Gargan, along with the destruction of a US Air Force jet?”

“What? No!”

“Did you plan and participate in the assault on government agents Melissa Gold, Robert Baldwin, and Air Force pilots Jefferson Pluck and Walter Clapton, which left all of them seriously injured?”

Louise shook her head, desperately. “No!”

“Did you plan and participate in the attack on federal agent Mary Walker that left the agent in a permanent coma, and unlikely to ever walk again?”

“No!”

“Did you plan and participate in the kidnapping and murder of Secretary of Superhuman Armed Forces Henry Gyrich?”

“No!”

“Did you plan and participate in the murder of Deputy National Security Advisor Norman Osborn?”

“No, I – Wait, he's dead? I don't – “

“Did you plan and participate in the murder of SHIELD agent Anthony O'Connor?”

“Oh, God! I don't even know who – “

“Have you ever planned or participated in a terrorist act against the United States of America, any of its institutions, its government personnel, or its agents?”

“No!”

“You are a lying cunt.” The calmness of the interrogator's voice shocked Louise; it clashed against the harshness of the curse.

A monitor next to the desk lit up. The screen was blue and empty for a moment, before an image appeared. Two girls were talking as they walked, almost ran, to a car. It took a moment for Louise to realize she was watching herself and Alex escape from that hotel at Disney, the time when that woman in the red costume attacked them.

Louise's eyes widened.

“She was trying to kill Alex! It was self –”

The hand behind her grabbed her hair and yanked, pulling her head to the side so hard she felt something pop. “Shut up,” a voice growled. It was the same man who had manacled her.

Louise swallowed hard when the image on the screen switched to Alex in her Superwoman costume. It was a shot taken from the docks, the night Alex saved the casino ship. Louise saw herself clearly. She was in the Poison Ivy costume, held in Alex's arms, giving her partner what she remembered as a fantastic, fantastic kiss.

“We aren't going to tolerate any more lies, Miss Fulford. We have nearly three hours of recorded video and still imagery, plus another seventy-five pages of personal testimony from eye witnesses that identify you as an accomplice to the known terrorist Karen Starr.”

The monitor blinked off.

“Let me inform you as to why you are here, Miss Fulford. You are being formally charged with six counts of murder in the first degree, plotting the violent overthrow of the US government, fleeing to escape incarceration, and numerous counts of aggravated assault with intent to kill.”

Louise swallowed, trying to conquer the dryness of her mouth. “Please,” she whispered. “I didn't do anything.”

The interrogator stood. “You're going to be in this prison for the rest of your natural life, Miss Fulford. I suggest you make your peace with it. You're never going to see daylight again, and your precious girlfriend isn't coming to rescue you.”

The interrogator turned to the guards. “Process her. Then throw her back into her cell.”

Louise screamed as the hood was shoved back over her head.

**XxxxxxX**

“It was horrific! She looked – she looked terrified!” Wonder Man slumped in his seat. The other Avengers just stared. Tony's expression was grim, as was Janet's and Natasha's. Spider-Man's expression was hidden by his mask, but his body language screamed fear and tension. Ares was impossible to read, Hank merely stared into space looking blank. Carol Danvers was smirking into her coffee, not that anyone noticed. She was careful not to let anyone see her expression.

Occasionally, Pym glanced in her direction. Carol hoped he didn't blow it. What she _wanted_ was to drop the hammer right now, but she was waiting for the paperwork. This was going to be all nice and legal.

“Do we have any idea what happened?” Stark asked. Carol watched the table issue a collective shrug. “Anyone have any warning that there would be an attack? Has anyone heard from Sentry lately?” The entire table shook its head. Sentry had been MIA for months and no one knew why. “Do we know if their disappearances are connected?”

“I doubt it.” Carol couldn't help but interject. “Sentry has been gone a while.”

“Right.” Stark turned back to Wonder Man. “Okay, Simon, let's go over it again. You were shooting a charity appearance for a TV show. The scene was over, you talked with some of the actors... and then?”

“Then Superwoman got a call. She didn't say who it was, but she was smiling about it. Superwoman, she stepped away and started talking. I chatted with the actors, Caruso and what's his name, Rodriguez? Anyway, we talked about stunt work and how Caruso started as a stuntman, and, you know, bullshit like that. Nothing important. And then this, it looked like a cage made from light. It surrounded her. She started pounding on it, and I mean really pounding on it. I ran over and started wailing on it too. Nothing. It did nothing.” The big man took a deep breath. “Then the earth just swallowed her up like she'd never been there.”

“And when you tried to contact us, the coms weren't working at first?” Stark's eyes narrowed slightly.

“Yeah.”

Carol felt the buzz at her belt and smiled to herself. Casually, she pulled her smartphone out, keeping it under the table. Her smile grew bigger. Bingo. It was show time.

“Someone was interfering with the coms, used to isolate her, then? A jammer maybe?”

“It was a Model 7b Wide-Spectrum Jammer. Made by Stark Industries, I might add.” Carol stood and glanced at her phone, then back at Stark. The smile never left her lips.

“Carol?” Everyone at the table was confused except her. Well, except her and Pym, and Pym was beginning to look a bit panicked. Stark cleared his throat and spoke again. “Carol, what's going on?”

“What's going on, Mr. Stark, is that I was waiting for the arrest warrant to clear. Anthony Stark, by authority granted me by the US Attorney General and the Department of Defense, you are hereby under arrest. Charges will be explained to you later, but they include giving aid and comfort to a known terrorist.” Everyone stilled, shocked by her words. “Don't worry, you will be brought before a military tribunal for trial, with the assistance of a military lawyer chosen for you by the court.”

Stark's reaction was as quick as it was predictable. His faceplate fell into position and he raised an arm to her. “I don't – “ There was a loud snapping sound, and the smell of ozone, and the Iron Man suit froze in place.

“Thank you, Doctor Pym.” Carol walked around the table toward Stark, careful to pass behind the chairs filled by Janet Van Dyne and Natasha Romanoff and not Simon Williams. Pym, who had an unpleasant look on his face, tossed a small device onto the table like it was burning his hand.

Carol reached the head of the table. She pushed Stark out of the way and the industrialist, imprisoned as he was in his own armor, slammed into the floor, stuck on his side. “Don't worry, Mr. Stark. We'll get you out of that tin can when the marshals get here to haul you away. Shouldn't be more than a couple of minutes.”

“Here's what's happening. The president of the United States has reviewed the Avengers charter, as well as the Superhuman Registration Act, and he has ordered a change in leadership. This will no longer be a private club run by and for the benefit of a bunch of freelance vigilantes. From this moment on, the Avengers are all duly authorized federal law enforcement agents, an arm of the Justice Department, with myself in command.”

She looked at each Avenger, making sure to meet the eyes of each one of them as best she could. “This means you all have a choice. You can accept that things are different now and continue as members of the team, or you can join Stark here in the Gulag.” She smirked as some of them sat back in shock. “Well?”

“Hank? You knew she was...” Janet was staring at her ex-husband in shock and horror.

“What do you want me to say, Janet? Tony let a terrorist onto the team. She was a terrorist.” Pym nevertheless couldn't meet Janet's eyes.

“It matters not to myself whom I fight for. My arrangement was with Stark, but it can easily switch to you.” Ares shrugged. “It matters not.”

By now, Carol's eyes were on Wonder Man. If there was going to be trouble, if anyone was going to be difficult, it would be Wonder Man. She watched the big man gather himself to say something, but before Wonder Man could speak, the first dissension came from an unexpected source.

“Lady, if you really think you can just walk in here and take over, you're either stupid or crazy. Or both.” Spider-Man stood up and planted his hands on the table. “I don't want to speak for anyone else, but let me just say this: you can go fuck yourself! And so can that asshole in the oval office!”

Carol smiled. She could almost kiss Spider-Man. She had hoped someone other than Stark would fight, just so she could make an example out of somebody. Carol had to admit, if there was one thing that the big-titted bitch had got right, it was that being argued with pissed Carol off, and she absolutely loved squashing people who thought they could get away with arguing with her. Spider-Man was a lightweight, and she was going to enjoy kicking his ass.

“Fine. You can joi – “ Carol broke off, the wind knocked out of her. Faster than she could blink, Spider-Man had lifted the conference table to the height of her sternum and thrust it forward so it ran, edge-first, right into her. The force of the shove drove Carol – and most of the table – through the wall she had been standing in front of. And it had happened so _fast!_ Way too fast for anyone else in the room to stop Spider-Man. Or any of the other Avengers, the ones that weren’t present. Maybe – maybe -- Quicksilver. And the strength behind the blow – she knew Spider-Man was superhumanly strong, but she didn’t think he was _that_ strong. Carol stared at the room's ceiling, trying to catch her breath. From behind the wall, now blocked by the mass of the table, she heard shouts, the sounds of fighting, and the cascade of shattering glass.

Carol stood. The table was wedged firmly in the wall, blocking the hole her own body had formed. She couldn't see anything past it. With a growl, she grabbed the table and yanked, but rather than pull the entire table through the wall, the section she grabbed broke off in her hands. The other side of the chunk was covered in a sticky white paste Carol recognized as Spider-Man's webbing. She tossed the chunk of table aside, and stopped when she realized it was still stuck to her hands. _The gunk had cemented it to her hands._ Carol tried to shake the chunk of wood loose, but it didn't work. She tried to scrape the thing off on a wall, but it still didn't work.

Without warning, someone's head – Ares' head – came smashing through the wall next to the table. The Olympian was unconscious and his face was bloody. Carol shrieked in surprise, again wondering just what was going on in there. She watched, hoping Ares would awaken, but to no avail.

“Perfect.” Carol sighed. “Spider-Man of all people. Sure, I expected trouble from Simon. But Spider-Man? Who saw that coming?” Resolved anyway, she re approached the wall, found a section that seemed likely, and punched her way through it, table chunk or no table chunk. The conference room was in shambles. Carol had no idea what happened, but could guess. Iron Man's armor was now in two pieces. It had been peeled open from the back. The front was tossed against the wall, the back was lying where she had shoved him. Both sides were empty. A two-inch-tall Yellowjacket hung upside down from the ceiling, wrapped in webbing. He swung in the high breeze let in by the broken floor-to-ceiling window. Two federal marshals were unconscious next to the door, their sidearms crushed into small metal balls.

Of the rest of the Avengers, there was no sign at all. Carol sighed. “Really, I hoped you all would be smarter than this. Oh well. You can't make an omelet...” she muttered to herself. After a moment, she found where her smartphone had landed and poked at a few of the keys. It was still working. At least something was.

“This is Danvers.” Carol said into the phone. “The worst-case scenario has happened. The Avengers are now all fugitives. Put out BOLOs – do not approach, consider armed and dangerous. And we'll need some new Avengers.”

**XxxxxxX**

Tony Stark hated having to wait. Being worth multiple billions of dollars, being the head of his own company, then later leader of the Avengers and a Cabinet Secretary in the US government, Stark was used to getting things almost as quickly as he could form the desire to have them. If he couldn't buy it, he could lease it. Sure, he had to put up with it when it came time to assemble some new invention, but that was about the limit of his willingness to put up with waiting.

Stark had been waiting in the truck stop's diner for an hour. Just to cover his being there, he'd ordered something called 'the long-haul breakfast' because it looked huge and he could take his time on it. The eggs were overcooked and the bacon was less crispy than he liked, but the pancakes were perfect. He sipped at his coffee, grimacing at the oily, muddy taste. _Colombian, probably a blend instead of a straight grind. And if they used filtered water in this dive, I'll eat my hoodie._

Stark was a coffee snob and didn't hide it. For him, it was Khol Indonesia slow roast, with filtered water naturally, made in a French press. That, to him, was the perfect cup of coffee. Colombian coffee tasted like the muck the peasants grew it in, with an added dollop of used motor oil just to even out the acidity. He grimaced again as he took another sip.

After being freed from his armor by Wonder Man, the Avengers had fled. They stayed together long enough to ensure they hadn't been followed, then scattered to the four winds. Out of all of them, the only one he wasn't worried about was Black Widow. Natasha had disappeared into the crowd right in front of Stark's eyes, and the billionaire had no doubts that the woman could stay out of sight for as long as she wanted to stay out of sight. The benefits of spy training. The others, though. Parker would have it easiest. He had that kind of 'Joe Everyman' face, and most people weren't used to Spider-Man without his mask. But Simon? Where does a 6'9” tall man with glowing eyes like Wonder Man go to hide?

Stark had shaved off his beard and used a bottle of Clairol Nice 'n' Easy Natural Light Golden Brown. The same Wal-Mart that supplied the hair dye had supplied a couple of pairs of ratty jeans, some deck shoes, a dozen t-shirts with some comic book character or other on it, and a black hoodie. It wasn't much of a disguise, but he figured no one would expect him to go to ground and not live like a billionaire.

They'd all agreed to split up and attempt to get into contact with Captain America's group. They needed help, and Cap might be angry with them – with _him_ , Stark admitted – but he wasn't the type of leave a friend, or even a former friend, hanging. And Cap would be royally pissed by what Marvel had done.

He glanced up at the television over the diner's counter and then did a double-take. It was some sort of press event. The scrawling banner read 'WHITE HOUSE INTRODUCES NEW AVENGERS TEAM'. He snorted into his cup of liquid mud-oil and wondered who they'd got to take part in this farce.

Ares was still there, along with Yellowjacket and Captain Marvel. There was also someone dressed in one of his old suits; he didn't think it was Rhodey, but there was every chance they'd given Rhodes orders. Some yo-yo who was way too young to be Logan was being called 'Wolverine,' but it had to be nonsense because Wolverine hadn't worn that yellow get-up in decades. Someone – _probably John Walker; he's the type to say yes to this sort of bullshit_ – had been stuffed into a redesigned Captain America suit, complete with shield. Thoughts of the final member of this new team gave Stark heartburn: it was the Thor android. Clone. Cyborg. Whatever. That thing was dangerous. It was only a matter of time before it killed something.

“You know, it’s only a matter of time before that thing kills something.”

“What?” Stark looked up from his cup of mud. Steve Rogers smiled back at him. It wasn't a friendly smile, just a polite one. “Oh. Hi there.”

“Hi there, yourself.” Rogers stared at the television and the silent talking heads who were no doubt discussing the new Avengers roster. “I can't believe they managed to talk John Walker out of retirement and back into a suit. Wonder where they got the shield.” Captain America was quiet for a long while, and Tony Stark intentionally didn't bust the silence up. “Anyway, I heard you had a spot of trouble and need help.” The man gave an absolutely magnificent shrug that only a super-soldier could provide. “So, I'm here to help.”

**XxxxxxX**

Alex slammed into the ground with such force that it shattered beneath her. All around her, cars screeched. Some drivers stood on their horns, others didn't brake in time and crashed. The shouting started almost immediately.

 

She remained in the crater her landing created, panting for a moment, before lifting her head. It looked the same. Alex wasn't sure where she was, but it looked absolutely the same as the CSI Miami shooting location. But there were no camera crews, no actors, no support crew. Even more importantly, there was no Wonder Man. Alex stood to dust herself off and only then noticed the change in her costume. It had turned into – into something else. It was blue leather armor, suddenly. Or maybe even bone that had been died blue. The joints were black patches with blood red bindings.   
While staring down at her suit, she'd noticed her hair. There were suddenly bright red streaks in her hair, like she'd gone to a salon and asked for punk-rock highlights.

The Kryptonian symbols had gone from being a belt buckle and two broaches to being inscribed on the material of the armor itself. It was all very weird.

Alex lifted herself into the air, tapping on her earbud as she rose. “Superwoman to any Avenger, please respond!” She didn't know what was going on, but she knew she needed help.

The reply was faint, but it was present. “This is Pine Tree Command, a NORAD station. You managed to tune your ham radio to a restricted military channel. Stop broadcasting and re tune your radio, now, please.” Alex stopped in mid-air, her mouth agape. Beneath her, a crowd was forming. They were all pointing and staring at her. So... no superheroes wherever she'd landed. Well, at least she could take care of one thing. In a second, Alex was hanging on nothing, in a stable, geostationary orbit above Los Angeles, in a part of the atmosphere that barely counted as atmosphere at all.

Telescopic examination of the surface had revealed no camp full of homeless mutants. No Avengers tower. No house on the beach in Little Pine Key. She was alone, with no one to help her and nowhere to go. And no Louise. Alex would have sighed had there been enough air to sigh with. At least she hadn't been hurtled out of the sky toward the ground, like the last time she was tossed into a different dimension

_Wait,_ she thought to herself. _A different dimension?_

Suddenly desperate to know, Alex turned in space and looked down. Southern California at night time was spread beneath her like a blanket. She stared, concentrating on the roadways. She was familiar with the roads. She easily found the glittering sprawl that was Los Angeles, then followed the highway to the north west, along the coast.

And there it was. There wasn't enough air for her cry of surprise. Not that there was anyone to hear it.

With no effort at all, Alex flipped, head toward earth, and dove back into the thick atmosphere. Towards Sunnydale. Alex hit Mach 4 before she'd moved ten feet.

Alex knew just where to go to find help.

**XxxxxxX**

Buffy Summers could see her sister at the top of the tower. It wasn't far now. All she had to do was keep ahead of Glory, and –

And the hellgod came out of nowhere, whipping up from below. Glory wasn't as fast as she had been, was no longer moving at blurspeed, but she was still faster than Buffy. Glory swung a fist at Buffy, who ducked out of the way. Buffy slammed the butt of the hammer into the god's stomach, then jabbed the head of the weapon at the beast's face. Glory stumbled back, but wasn't otherwise hurt. She slapped Buffy away, dodged another hammer swing, but caught the return swing to the face. Buffy brought the weapon around again, but the hellgod caught it. She yanked the hammer out of Buffy's hands and it went spinning through the air. Buffy didn't hesitate, but launched a series of kicks and punches that seemed to hurt the god, but not as much as the hammer had been hurting it. Glory connected, knocking Buffy down. Before Glory could take advantage of it, Buffy was back on her feet. She ran at Glory, tacking the beast, and both plummeted from the tower.

They hit the pavement hard. Glory smashed through a pile of drywall, while Buffy landed just beyond it. Both lay there for a moment, then began to climb to their feet. It was clear both were shaky, but Buffy was visibly more injured than the hellgod was.

Glory smirked at the Slayer. “You lost your hammer, sweet cheeks. What're you gonna hit me with now?”

Buffy glanced to the side, and opened her mouth to answer, when a blue and red missile slammed bodily into Glory from above. The cement paving beneath the hellgod cratered, and cracks opened under Buffy's feet. The Slayer fell backward onto her ass, where she crab-walked backward, trying to distance herself from the new arrival. It was a woman. A woman in blue armor, with red streaks in her hair. She towered over Glory, who was laying dazed in the crater. And in Buffy's opinion, whoever – whatever – she was, she was righteously pissed off.

Out of nowhere, a gigantic wrecking ball swung into the new arrival. The metal weight, which must have weighed tons, shattered on impact like it had been made of fragile crystal. Buffy turned her head to stare at Xander, at the controls of the crane. Her friend only shrugged before they both turned their attention back to the crater, Glory, and whatever new demon had entered the fight.

The woman in blue reached down and lifted Glory by the throat with one hand. The hellgod clawed at the woman's hand, trying to force the newcomer to release her grip. It took a moment for Buffy to realize what it meant. The new arrival was stronger and more powerful than Glory.

The woman in blue punched Glory, once, twice, a third time, but stopped when Glory abruptly changed into the form of Ben. The new arrival stared at the man, then shrugged and dropped him. She – it? – hopped out of the crater and approached Buffy with a smile.

“Buffy! Great! Man, I missed you. Listen, is Giles around? I could use some help, some hocus pocus type help, and I figure if anyone can figure it out for me, he can.”

**XxxxxxX**


	27. Welcome To The Hellmouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“In every generation, there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer!” – **Rupert Giles** (Anthony Stewart Head), Buffy the Vampire Slayer, “Welcome to the Hellmouth”_

**XxxxxxX**

“Buffy! Great! Man, I missed you. Listen, is Giles around? I could use some help, some hocus-pocus type help, and I figure if anyone can figure it out for me, he can.”

Buffy scrambled further back, shock and not a little bit of fear clearly visible on her face. She didn't know who – what? – this woman was, but the way she kicked Glory's ass so easily made it clear that the new arrival was very dangerous. And her -- she – it? – was, coming toward her with a smile on its – her? – face.

The crazies had gone quiet when Glory had been quelled; they were just sort of standing there, motionless. Not reacting to anything anymore. The rest of the Scoobies were creeping closer, being cautious about the crazies – who didn't even seem to notice the Scoobies were there anymore – while simultaneously trying to get closer to support Buffy against this new threat.

The strange woman in blue slowed her approach and the smile on her face dimmed slightly. “Buff?” There was a moment of confusion, followed by what was obviously an epiphany. “Right! You have no idea who I am and I just did something really scary and intimidating! Okay! Yeah, sorry, I was so jazzed about being back that I forgot. Look, there was this entire thing, you know, thrown into another dimension, thinking I was someone else for a while, merging consciousnesses, becoming my own person, getting married. Not to mention the entire comic book thing. No wonder you're looking at me like I'm about to jump on you and eat you.” The woman held her hands up and stopped coming closer. She – the thing – person? – looked down at herself. “Don't worry, I'm not going to jump on you and eating you! No Buffy eatage!” The woman looked down at herself, then back at Buffy, who noted that the stranger's grin widened in the process. “And the fact that I'm dressed like Barbarian Warrior Barbie probably doesn't help any. Oh well, no harm, no foul. I'll stay over here until you say otherwise. But I am so glad to see you. Like I said, I need some hocus-pocus type help. Oh, hi there, Giles?”

The thing – woman? – waved at someone behind her, and without meaning to Buffy glanced back over her shoulder in time to see Giles, who was staring at the new arrival in shock, just like everyone else, automatically raise his hand in return. Her Watcher barely caught himself before he waved back.

Buffy opened her mouth to say something – what, precisely, she had no idea – when suddenly there came a cry from high on the tower. “Buffy!”

Buffy's eyes jerked skyward. “Marie? Marie!” She scrambled to her feet.

“Hey, is that...” Willow's voice was just loud enough for everyone to hear. “Is there someone up there with Marie?”

“Yeah. Can't see who,” Xander replied.

“I don't care who it is!” Buffy's voice cracked, near panic. “We've got to get up there, now!”

“Go, Buffy! We'll take care of this!” Willow again. Buffy didn't wait. She ran for the base of the tower and up the metal steps as quickly as she could.

Beneath her, Buffy heard the stranger ask, “Marie? Who's Marie? Is she new?” Buffy didn't have time to bother with it, and didn't care if someone answered the newcomer. She had a sister to rescue.

**XxxxxxX**

At the shrieking call of, “Buffy”, Alex looked upward, just like everyone else. At the top of the rickety, badly constructed tower, on a platform of sorts, was a young girl who'd been tied to the railing. She was wearing a ridiculous dress that didn't quite fit her. It had poofy sleeves and a sash, and was made of a horridly violet-colored velvet. Clearly it was a ritual gown of some type. And near the girl on the same platform was a short, white-haired old man in a suit. They seemed to be talking.

Alex glanced back at the people gathering around her. She didn't really pay attention as first Willow spoke, then Xander – the thought, _If this is as all-hands-on-deck as it looks, where is Angel and Ms. Calendar? When did Jonathan Levinson and Larry Blaisdell join the group? And who are these strangers?_ flitted through her head.

Alongside the people she readily recognized – Xander Harris, Willow Rosenberg, Larry Blaisdell, Jonathan Levinson, and Rupert Giles – there were several newcomers. The first was a young man with a thin beard – his beard was red, but the hair on top of his head was green. He was obviously injured and leaning on Willow. There was a tall, thin, leggy young woman with long brown hair, standing in what Alex's memories from Kara told her was a ready combat stance; she looked to be in decent shape and was bouncing on the balls of her feet. It didn't escape her notice that the girl had placed herself slightly ahead and to the right of Xander, as if protecting him. A thin redhead in a knit cap and a track suit was doing the same thing to Jonathan. The last of the new young women had 'slutbomb' written all over her. A black t-shirt from heavy metal band, denim jeans, combat boots, and a katana. The girl's attitude oozed from her pores like sweat.

They all turned toward Alex.

These newcomers weren't with the Scoobies when she – when Halloween happened and Alex woke up in a comic book universe.

Buffy glanced back at Alex, then addressed people in the crowd. “Dawn, Vi, stay here. Keep an eye on Xena here. I'm going to rescue Marie!” Buffy rushed off, toward the tower's steps.

The young woman – the one in the AC/DC tour shirt and the combat boots – sheathed her weapon and bolted toward the tower after Buffy, causing Giles to call after her, “Wait! Faith, it’s not --- damn that girl...”

Willow opened her mouth to yell something toward the two women, who had commenced to climbing the tower's steps. The action brought all of Alex's attention down on her. Before Willow could speak, Alex interrupted, “Marie? Who's Marie? Is she new?”

Willow bit her lip, resisting the urge to answer, but the brown-haired girl – who had put her arm around Xander's waist. _And who the heck is she to be doing that?_ – blurted out, “Our little sister! Buffy and my little sister... Glory wanted to sacrifice her! We're here to rescue --” Alex hesitated just long enough to hear the words 'sacrifice' and 'rescue' before launching herself into the air at the word 'rescue' – “Wow!”

Alex flew fast enough to mess the hair of everyone around her with the turbulence she generated. She didn't know who the newcomers were, and she _absolutely_ had no idea just when it was that Buffy had acquired a single sister, much less two of them. But if the girl on top of the tower _was_ Buffy's sister that made her as good as family to Alex and no one – _no one_ – messed with her family.

Alex was there in less than a second. The old man had pulled some sort of antique watch out of a pocket and looked at it. She heard him say, “What do you know? Just about that time.” The girl, looking over the man's shoulder, saw Alex hanging in mid-air and her eyes got bigger than eyes had any logical reason for becoming. Her face became a mask of terror. The old man turned, his eyes also widening when he saw Alex standing in mid-air. “Well, that is certainly an interesting trick. Hello, there. I don't think I've seen anything quite like you before. But unfortunately, there is no time to chit-chat. We're on a tight schedule” From seemingly nowhere, there was a knife in the man's hands.

Alex moved herself to be between the old man and the girl, still standing on air. “Step away from the girl and I promise you won't be hurt.” Alex put as much authority as she could into her voice. “If you don't, I promise that you won't have enough time to regret it.” She spoke over her shoulder, toward the girl. “Marie? Your name is Marie, right? I'm a friend of your sister's. I'm here to help. Buffy's coming. Until she gets here, I'm here to make sure you're all right, okay?”

“Buffy? Buffy's coming?” The girl was clearly scared out of her mind. Given the circumstances, this was a perfectly understandable reaction.

“You seem to be operating under the misconception that you can stop this. I cannot allow you to interfere. This is a matter of intricate timing, and it cannot be wasted dealing with the likes of you.” The old man never lost his smile, but it had gone from welcoming to absolute vicious, the smile of a sadist. He began to wave the knife in front of him, like a practiced assassin from an action movie.

Alex gave a quick glance toward the girl. “Marie?” she said, again over her shoulder. “I need you to close your eyes and hold on to a railing as tight as you can. Things might get a little shaky.” Dawn nodded and complied. Turning back to the old man, she gritted her teeth. “Last chance.”

The man started to take a step forward. The thin knife in his hand came around in an arc. He opened his mouth and there was something odd about his tongue. All of this took four tenths of a second. Alex waited the entire time before she _moved_. The entire world became full of statues as Alex barreled toward the old man at just below the speed of sound – Alex didn't want a sonic boom to tear down the visibly unstable tower. She plowed into the man at speed, feeling him compress into a boneless sack of gelatin and liquid against her invulnerable skin.

Alex counted to five and came to a dead stop as quickly as she had begun moving. She was already far out over the Pacific Ocean. The corpse of the demon – and it had to have been a demon, and not an old man at all since his blood turned out to be a glowing neon purple in color – continued to fly forward at almost super-sonic speeds. She tracked the thing's remains as it skipped across the surface of the water once, twice, before finally sinking nearly three miles away from where she stopped.

Alex nodded to herself, then dove into the water like a seabird going after a fish. The current she created by her motion cleansed the creature's blood from her. Rising from the water, she spun in place fast enough to dry herself in moments.

Alex grinned to herself. Time to head back to Sunnydale. It came as a surprise to find how much she'd missed the shitty old place.

**XxxxxxX**

Marie Summers tugged on the ropes that were securing her to the rig. She'd done as the stranger asked, holding on to that same rail for dear life as a small hurricane erupted around the tower. The rig had swayed scarily, but hadn't tipped. When Marie opened her eyes, the old man with the knife was gone, and so was the flying woman. Now all Marie wanted was to be down off the platform. She could feel the tower creak and groan, and it was obvious it just wasn't going to be standing for too much longer. Marie peered toward the ground. It looked like the platform she was tied to was a couple hundred feet up, maybe even five hundred feet up. Intellectually, she knew that was crazy. She'd been there when they dragged her up it, and knew it couldn't be more than maybe seventy-five feet, but damn if it didn't look higher than that.

She could hear Buffy coming up the stairs. Marie's older sister had yelled up to her, but Marie couldn't make it out. Probably something like, 'Hold on, I'm coming,' or something. Buffy always did go for the classics. Marie could see the rest of the Scoobies, watching from the ground. She tugged on the ropes again, trying to twist her wrist around so loosen the ties, but it wasn't going anywhere. All she did was give herself a burn.

Marie blinked as she was buffeted by a breeze and jerked back as she became aware that the flying woman was back. She seemed to have just appeared, standing on nothing. The woman smiled at her, and despite the complete oddity of it all the smile felt reassuring, somehow. “Okay, let's get you untied, okay?” The woman didn't bother with the knots. She just slid a couple of fingers under the rope and tugged and they separated like they were made of tissue paper.

The moment that the ropes broke and she was free, Marie jerked backwards, as far away from the flying woman as she could get without leaping from the tower. She looked around, trying to gauge whether she could get past the woman to the stairs. She could hear Buffy coming up – now that her sister was closer, she could understand what Buffy was yelling to her – and knew Buffy would be there in less than a minute. But a lot could happen in a minute.

The woman's smile – which still felt reassuring somehow, despite how scared Marie was, didn't even dim. The flying woman held her hands up and backed up a foot, until she was hanging in mid-air. Marie stared at the woman's feet, just standing on nothing as if it was the most mundane thing in the world to happen. “It'll be okay, Marie. I'm here to help. I know I look scary, but I promise, I'm a good guy. My name's Alexandra, but my friends call me Alex.” The woman's smile widened. “I'd like you to call me Alex, okay? We'll just wait here until Buffy gets here. I won't come any closer than necessary.”

“Marie! Get behind me!” Marie's breath caught as Buffy rushed from the stairs to stand between her and the woman. Her sister's arm flashed out in a blurred arc. “Get away from her!” Marie didn't recognize what was happening until the woman's hands moved _even faster than Buffy's_ and suddenly the woman was holding a pair of Buffy's throwing knives in her hands.

Again, the smile never even dimmed. “No need for that. All I did was untie her and then hang around to make sure she didn't fall.” The flying woman looked at the knives. Nodding toward them, the woman held them out to Buffy, handles first. “They wouldn't have worked anyway. I'm a bit more than bulletproof; you'd need something heavier. But that was a great throw! I mean, if I were just a girl, I'd have never seen those knives coming until they hit me! Fantastic!”

“I'm here if you need me, Buff!” Faith had appeared, looking slightly out of breath, and Marie noted she was carrying her favorite black battle-axe. Her sister's partner was out of breath – _Of course she is,_ Marie thought to herself, _she keeps trying to keep up with Buffy even though she's not a Slayer_ – but she was obviously ready to attack the flying woman at Buffy's command anyway. Buffy gave her a quick nod and a downward wave, the signal Marie recognized as meaning “Hold tight and wait.”

The flying woman smiled at Faith. “Hi there. I'm Alex. Nice to meet you. Are you a friend of Buffy's?” It was obvious, even to Marie, that the woman was fishing. It was odd. She knew who Buffy was, but didn't know who Faith was? The more she thought about it, the weirded it was.

Marie could tell that it wasn't just her, either. Buffy was visibly confused by the woman's words, not to mention the entire non-confrontational attitude. But Buffy wasn't backing down, and the younger girl felt a swell of pride for her sister. “Faith, stay back.” She said this without taking her eyes from the flying woman demon thing. “More firepower, huh? Like what, a rocket launcher? Been there, done that, killed the demon with it. I can get another.” Buffy said.

The woman shook her head. “Nope. More like a nuclear weapon, and even then, I've got a fair-to-middling chance of surviving it.” Marie's mouth fell open; the demon flying woman had to be lying, but it felt – it felt like she was telling the truth.

“Jesus!” Faith muttered. “If she's that tough... Buffy, what are we going to do?”

The flying woman glanced toward Faith, but didn't respond. Instead, she turned the smile back onto Buffy. “So anyway, it’s great to see you again! Not that you really would remember meeting me the first time, or, you know, even being aware that you met me.” The tower creaked loud enough to almost down them out, and the entire structure shuddered. The flying woman glanced down at the tower, then back up at the sisters and Faith. “You guys should get off this thing as soon as possible. It’s not exactly stable. I can give you a lift to the ground, if you want.” The unspoken question hung in the air.

“We'll get down by ourselves.” Buffy tugged on Marie's shoulder gently, moving her toward Faith and always staying between the flying woman and Marie. Faith did the same thing, maneuvering the younger girl to the stairs while keeping herself in between the intruder and Marie.

“Okay! That'll work.” The woman dropped until her head was level with the grating they were standing on and grabbed hold of one of the long girders making up the tower. “I'll hold it steady for you as long as I can. Hopefully this thing will wait until you're off it before it collapses.”

**XxxxxxX**

Buffy had kept her eye on the flying demon woman the entire way down. To her surprise – and relief – the woman had done precisely what she said she was going to do, and just hung there in mid-air holding the tower steady. It was yet another statement of how powerful this – woman? Thing? Demon? Anyway, just how powerful she was if she could hold the tower up just with her own hands. That took a lot of strength, given the problem of leverage.

When Buffy, Marie, and Faith stepped off the tower, the woman was still hanging in the air, holding the tower up. The moment the three were away from the tower, a sudden shriek of metal caused everyone around them to jump. The crowd – the disturbed as well as the Scoobies – watched in collective awe as the flying woman pushed the tower downward, collapsing it in on itself in a controlled crash rather than allowing it to just fall.

“Buffy.” It was Giles. “While we have the chance, let's get Marie out of harm's way. Dr. Lamontagne, Dr. Dormer and Xander can get her home while the rest of us stay here and figure out what's going on.” The two older women and her oldest male friend all nodded, willing to take the youngest Summers girl out of harm's way should a fight break out.

“Sounds like a plan.” Without turning, Buffy spoke to Marie. “Go with Diana, Lydia, and Xander. Get home. Lock the door and wait for us, okay? Don't let anyone else in. Mom's waiting for us, and Willow's got the house warded anyway, so it'll be safe.”

Lydia, Dawn Summers' watcher, handed something to Giles before fading into the darkness. Gratefully, her younger sister just nodded, then vanished into the night after the older woman, with the other two of her three escorts following. Giles held his hand up and Buffy realized they were car keys. “They were taking Diana's car back to your mother's house,” Giles commented softly.

The pair of them turned to watch the flying woman, who was carefully demolishing the tower. “Any idea what this thing is, Giles? Or how we kill it?” Faith hadn't taken her eyes off the flying woman once. The thing was now pressing down on the steel girders making up the tower's base, turning the entire assembly into a work of modern art. Buffy met her girlfriend's eyes, and it look like Faith was terrorized. “How are we going to kill it, B?”

“No idea.” Giles sighed. And the ease with which it dealt with Glory – to be honest, I don't think I've ever been more frightened in my life. If it decides to be hostile...” Giles shared that same gob-smacked look the potential Slayer's face carried.

“We'll figure it out if we need to.” The flying woman landed and approached, slowly, with her hands raised. “Who knows, maybe we won't need to. She's been helping us – at least so far. Wouldn't be the first demon who wanted to help us rather than fight us.”

“Would it help if I told you I wasn't a demon?” The intruder said as she approached. Buffy's eyes widened. The thing smiled at them. “Sorry, I've got even better hearing than you do, Buffster. But yeah, not a demon. I promise.” The woman looked down at herself and then smirked at Buffy. “Appearances aside.”

“If you're not a demon, then what are ya?” Faith's question hung in the air. Eventually, the woman spoke.

“It’s kind of complicated. Not to mention a long story. We might want to go someplace a little more private to have this conversation, because the cops will be here soon. I can hear sirens.” The woman shrugged at Buffy's surprised reaction. “Better hearing, remember? Anyway, I'll make any promises you need me to make. I'm not here to hurt you. I just need your help.”

Giles cleared his throat. “With what do you need our help?”

The woman sighed. “Look, I'll give you the whole sordid story, but can we kind of get out of here? I figure we've got maybe five minutes, tops, before the cops get here.”

“Right.” Giles turned to the rest of the crowd that had begun to gather around. “Dawn, gather up the pieces of April; the last thing we need is for the cops to find a disassembled robot. Carry her out of here. Vi, Faith, I need you to police up any weapons or equipment we might have left behind.” He gave a glance to bodies of Glory's demon followers, which had begun to melt into puddles of ooze, and to the unfortunate people who were minions solely as a side-effect of their dementation. “We'll just have to let the cops have them.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” The flying woman asked.

“No offense, but for right now, you can't be trusted. If you truly want us to help you and don't mean any harm, please just stay in sight and don't do anything that might provoke an attack.” The woman shrugged at that, but didn't respond otherwise.

“Wait!” Buffy interjected, finally realizing what she had been forgetting. “Where's Ben?”

Giles' face became blank. “Don't worry about Ben. We'll let the police find him too.”

“Giles?” Buffy's eyes were growing wide. “Giles, what did you do?”

“What I had to. I removed the threat of Glory forever.” He didn't say anything else. Everyone – except the flying woman, maybe – knew what it meant.

“Giles, he was a human being! How could you just --- we don't harm humans!”

“No, Buffy. _**You**_ don't harm humans. I do whatever I must to keep my chil-- to keep you all – safe. No matter what. As I said, I removed the threat. As long as Glory shared Ben's body, she would have kept coming. It didn't matter that you foiled her plan, she would have wanted to strike back at you in revenge if nothing else.” The older man seemed to withdraw into himself. “To I took care of it. It’s now my burden, and I will carry it always. But I don't regret it.”

“Giles,” Dawn put a hand on Giles' arm. “When the cops find the body, is there any way they could find evidence linking you to it?”

“I don't know. It’s possible. And if that happens, I want you all to promise me that you won't endanger yourselves to protect me.”

The argument started immediately, all of the Scoobies protesting Giles' decision to sacrifice himself if necessary. Buffy led the way, naturally, being loudest and most vocal in protesting. But when the woman in the blue leather stepped away from their group, Buffy stopped, leaving it to Vi and Faith and Dawn to berate Giles. Buffy watched the intruder as she carefully withdrew from the sidelines of the argument. The woman stepped to where Ben's body lay under some scaffolding.

Buffy watched the woman take a deep breath. Her eyes narrowed a moment, and it seemed as if she was concentrating on Ben, memorizing all the details. To Buffy's shock, there was a sudden flash of heat. Ben's body glowed an orange-yellow before puffing into a cloud of ash even finer than vampire dust. The pile of ash held its human shape for a moment, before collapsing in on itself, already caught on the late spring breeze.

The woman turned back to the still-squabbling group, only to stop when she caught Buffy's eye. She smiled at Buffy and shrugged. “No body means no evidence. No evidence means Giles won't go to jail for murder.”

“Right.” Buffy was still stunned, but she saw the gesture for what it was. The flying woman was trying to help. It took a moment for Buffy to realize that, from the moment she had landed on Glory with both feet, the flying woman had done nothing but help them. No threats, no attacks, not even an intimidating glare. “Thank you.”

The woman shrugged. “No problem. You'd have done it for me if I'd been in your shoes and you in mine.”

Buffy just stared. “So, what do we call you?”

 

“Like I said, my name's Alex. Short for Alexandra.”

“A human name?”

Alex smiled. “Why not? I had human parents, and grew up as if I was human.” Technically, this was true. Both Xander Harris’s natural parents and Kara Zor-El’s adoptive parents were human, and both Xander and Kara were raised as if they were human beings.

“Okay, Alex then.” Buffy pursed her mouth for a moment. “Look. I appreciate that you've helped us so far – especially with taking down Glory. But we don't know you, and we don't trust you. So, you know it’s creepy talking to me like you've known me my whole life or something. I've got no idea who you are, where you came from, or what you're doing here. Don't act like we're friends.”

The flying woman had the grace to look chagrined. “Sorry. I'm not doing it on purpose. I'll try not to – hey, what the hell is that?”

Buffy looked to where the other woman was pointing. Dawn had pulled the deactivated android onto her shoulder and was carrying the thing's separated head under her arm. Wires and rods and connectors could be seen hanging out of the robot's neck – both the part of the neck on its shoulders and the part of the neck still connected to the head. “What, Dawn? That's my – oh, you mean the thing she's carrying?” At Alex's nod, Buffy continued. “Yeah, that's a robot. We were using her as extra muscle for – “ Buffy just waved her arms around, indicating the scene of the fight.

“Okay. Robot.” The woman – Alex – gave Buffy an 'I'll ask again later' look.

The girl carrying the robot's body approached. “Buffy, we're set. Time to hit the road.”

“Right. Let's get back home. I want to make sure Marie's not hurt.” She looked over at the newcomer. “I guess you'd better come with us. But I warn you, you try to hurt my mom and I'll rip out your rib cage and wear it like a hat.”

“You'll what?”

It was the other girl, Dawn, who replied. “Vague warnings are no one's friend. Try to hurt our mom and when Buffy's done with your ribs, I'll gouge out your eyes and use your skull as a bowling ball.”

“Good one, Dawnie. Gross, but effective.”

Vi approached the three women slowly, a couple of long blades propped over her shoulder, obviously keeping Alex on her left where she could strike more easily. She dipped her head in the newcomer's direction. “She coming with us?

“Looks like.” Buffy nodded, then blew a stray piece of hair out of her face. “She says she needs our help. I've got questions for her. We'll see.”

“Gotcha.” Vi looked the newcomer up and down. “If you hurt any of my friends, I'm going to rip out one of your thighbones and use it as a bat at my next softball game.”

Alex shook her head ironically, grinning. “So creative. Wow. Okay, I promise. No hurting anybody, and therefore no need for no rib cage hats, skull-bowling, or leg-bone softball.”

“Glad we have that straight.” Buffy tried to make it sound like a joke, just a bit of sarcastic ribbing, but Funny Buffy had retired for the evening, leaving Annoyed Buffy and Cautious Buffy in its place. It sounded like the threat it was meant as.

_Not that Flying Alex Demon Woman looks to threatened. More like amused,_ Buffy noted to herself. It was clear that the woman thought all the threats were kind of funny. Buffy took one last glance back at the slightly charred spot on the ground where the body of Dr. Ben Wilkinson, MD, once lay. There wasn't even a pile of ash left.

_Maybe there's a reason she doesn't see us as a threat._

**XxxxxxX**

“Well, that's not creepy at all.” The group had divided themselves, cramming into Joyce Summers' SUV, Lydia Lamontagne's Camry, and Larry Blaisdell's Jeep, as they headed back to Buffy's house to debrief and regroup. Willow, at the wheel of the SUV, was continually glancing into the mirrors.

Buffy turned to look through the truck's back window. In the back seat, Faith and Oz mimicked her.

“Huh.” Oz, as always, was laconic.

Faith merely whistled her disbelief. She turned back toward Buffy. “You seein' this like I'm seein' it?”

“Yeah. I'm seeing it.” Alexandra the Flying Woman was keeping pace with the three vehicles, running about five yards behind the SUV in the tail-end-Charlie position. It honestly looked like she was just jogging. Buffy turned, craning her head to read the speedometer. That Buffy could tell, they'd been moving forty-five miles per hour for about ten minutes now.

“Has she been doing that the entire time?” Buffy asked. Willow just nodded. “Really? I figured she'd fly. She's just been running behind us like that?” Again, Willow nodded. Buffy knew that she or Vi or Dawn – or any Slayer, really – could have hit the 45-mph mark with a lot of effort, but not for ten minutes straight.

“I'm not sure seeing her flying around behind us would be any less creepy, Buffy.”

Buffy sighed. “Can't argue with you there.”

**XxxxxxX**

Alex followed Buffy into the living room. She took it in all in one glance and smiled. The Summers house hadn't changed in the year or so she'd been gone. Most of the pictures on the walls and on shelves and tabletops were different, filled with the strangers who had joined the original Scoobies, but there were several photos of Buffy, Willow, and Xander together than Alex recognized from the last time she – or rather Xander – was here before that fateful Halloween night.

It felt good to be back, even if this place wasn't home anymore. Damn, she missed Louise already and she'd only been gone a few hours.

“Go ahead and have a seat. We'll get to why you're here and what you want in a minute.” Buffy waved her toward the couch.

“Sure, Buff. No problem.” Alex flopped onto the couch in a maneuver she knew was very Xander-like, carefully using her inborn powers to instinctively keep the sofa from collapsing under her 500-plus pounds.

The other girl, Dawn, the one someone had labeled 'Buffy's Older Sister', leaned into the stairway and yelled up toward the second floor. “Mom! Marie! Diana! We're back!”

“Yesh, I can tell.” Alex turned toward the new voice. It was low-toned, and slurred, like the speaker had gone to the dentist and been completely numbed up by Novocaine. Joyce Summers had emerged from the kitchen. She was moving slowly, pushing a rolling walker ahead of her. Joyce was moving slowly and carefully, and seemed a bit stooped over, and Alex could see that one side of her face was slack. She looked ten years older, and there was more gray hair than there rightly should be. She and Buffy immediately grabbed on to each other with no amount of relief and desperation. “She's shafe now. Diana and Lydia shaid Marie was shafe now. Thank you, Buffy! Thank you!”

The signs were obvious. in the time since Alex had become Alex and been thrust into the Marvel Universe, Joyce had suffered a stroke.

“Why are you staring at my Mom like that?” It was Dawn, who was giving Alex the hairy eyeball. Alex realized she had, in fact, been staring.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to stare. It just was surprising, about your Mom, I mean.”

“Yeah, well, she's doing a lot better. She could have died. Even with all that warning, she almost did. So --- so – “

“It’s okay. I didn't mean anything by it. I'm glad she's doing better.” Which was the truth.

Two women that Xander had never met before came downstairs. “Ah, Joyce, good. Marie's asleep.” The older of the two women, the dark-haired one, spoke to Buffy's mom. She had a posh-sounding English accent that her Kara-memories identified as British Received Standard, the accent of education. “Other than some bruising on her shoulder and neck and some abrasions on her wrists from the rope she was tied with, she's not injured. I gave her some antibiotics and bandaged her up and put her to bed.”

“Thank you, Diana,” Joyce let go of her older daughter. “I haff the hot cocoa all ready for – oh, hello. Are you a fren of Buffy? Buffy, is this a fren of yoursh?” Joyce gave Alex a one-sided smile, but the smile never reached her eyes. Obviously, Joyce had learned caution.

“Just call me Alex. Buffy and I just met. I, uh, helped her out with the Glory problem and she invited me back here so we could talk.” Alex smiled back at Mrs. Summers. Her shock over the stroke faded into nothingness. This was still the formidable, attractive woman that Xander had a crush on, after all, and nothing would change that.

“Alex?”

“Yes ma'am. Short for Alexandra.”

“Your name's Alexandra? What a coincidence. Xander there, his name is actually Alexander.” The red-headed Slayer Buffy had called 'Vi' pointed to the dark-haired young man. Alex just nodded. This was going to be awkward, she knew, so she figured she'd let the Scoobies take the initiative when it came to question-and-answer time.

“So, Alex,” Joyce began. She was obviously giving Alex the eye, taking in the bright blue leather armor and the red-streaked hair and the ice blue eyes. “Ow d'you meet Buffy?” She directed the question at Alex, but he eyes went to Dawn, Buffy, Giles, Willow, and Xander in turn.

“Well, it’s sort of a funny story. They were fighting, um –“ Alex turned to Vi. “What was her name again?”

“Glory.”

“Right. They were fighting Glory, and I saw they needed help, so I, uh, helped.” Alex shrugged, as if her actions were the most understandable things in the world. Everyone stared. Then all of them began speaking at once, asking questions and making declarations, and tossing comments into the mix. Everyone except for Joyce, who just stared at everyone in confusion. The hullabaloo would have been funny were things not so tense. Finally, the other woman who'd come down the stairs put her pinkies to her mouth and whistled.

Everyone went silent.

“I think it would be best if we each took turns.” The woman said. “I'll go first. Um. Miss – excuse me, you said your name was Alexandra?”

“That's right.” Alex nodded. _Here it comes._ “Alexandra Harris.”

Chaos erupted again, led this time by Xander, who, after shouting a couple of questions performed a flawless replication of the earlier whistle. “Okay. My turn. How is it that we have the same name? Are we related? Because I'd remember if I had a flying demon super-model sister.”

“Uh, okay, well, this might take a while. So – “ Alex paused, trying to figure out where to begin. “No, there's just too much. Let me sum up. Remember last Halloween? I mean, Halloween a year and a half ago? You dressed up as Power Girl because you lost a bet with Cordelia and then everyone turned into their costumes? I sort of got poofed into existence when the spell started, and when the spell ended, I got tossed into another universe and now I need help getting home.”

“Uh.” Xander looked confused. Buffy stepped in to continue the questioning.

“I don't know how you know about the Halloween where we all turned into our costumes, but that was three years ago, not a year and a half. I have no idea who this Angel person is, much less anything about them turning evil, and Xander didn't dress like Power Girl that Halloween. I did.” Buffy tilted her head at Alex. “Now that I think of it, though, you do kinda look like what Power Girl might look like, if she were real and didn't have red streaks in her hair.”

“How could you not know Angel? He's like, the love of your life!” Of everything Buffy had just said, that was the one that Alex got caught on.

“Hey, Red Menace, I'm the love of Buffy's life!” Sitting next to Buffy, the dark-haired girl, Faith, possessively grabbed one of Buffy's hands and their fingers interlocked.

Buffy leaned into the girl and gave her a quick peck just below her ear. “It's okay.” She turned to Alex. “I really have no idea who this girl Angel is supposed to be, but me and Faith have been together for nearly two years now.”

“I know who Angel is.” Everyone turned to look at Dawn. “And I think I know what's going on.”

“Well, make with the splainey already!” Willow's gaze jumped from Dawn to Alex and back.

“Okay. Uh, remember that night the vampire strangled me and I had to be resuscitated? The night Vi got called as a Slayer?” Everyone nodded. “Yeah, that was Angel. In the original time-line, he was a vampire with a soul; he was this huge champion of good working for the powers that be. He and Buffy got together, they made the horizontal mambo, he lost his soul, and then went all evil and Buffy had to kill him.”

“Why didn't you tell us?” Buffy asked.

“Didn't see the point. I wasn't going to let you get involved with him anyway this time around, and he was dusted so it didn't seem to be all that relevant, you know?” Dawn shrugged. Dawn turned to Alex. “I'm guessing you're from before I changed the time-line, or something?”

"Wait. Don't tell me you believe her bullshit?” Faith said. Buffy was nodding along to her girlfriend's skepticism. “She's some comic book character brought to life? That sounds like a badly written fantasy story. What's she going to say next, that she's a member of the Avengers who can get me Tony Stark's phone number? Maybe she knows if the Black Widow is a natural redhead?”

Alex, wisely, chose not to respond to that. But she couldn't help but think to herself, _310-555-1000. And yes, she is, as a matter of fact._

“Oh come on. It is that hard to believe? We fight demons for a living! I'm a time traveler from the future, not to mention what I was before that and what Marie still is! We're all three magic warriors created to fight the boogeyman! Willow's a hocus-pocus using tree-hugger! Xander is the One Who Sees! Is it that hard to conceive that maybe magic could make superheroes real too?”

“I don't – I'm confused now. Time travel?” Alex was almost in tears, she was so confused and frustrated. “I just want to go home!”

Before she knew it, Joyce was in front of her, tugging on her hands. Once standing, Alex was engulfed in a patented Joyce Summers hug. “Itsch okay. They'll help you. Just tell them the story again.”

“Okay.” Alex wiped at her eyes. “On Halloween night, the one where Ethan Rayne's spell turned us all into our Halloween costumes, Xander lost a bet with Cordelia and was forced to wear a Power Girl costume. When the spell began, Xander got turned to Power Girl, but the Xander portion was still lurking right beneath the surface. The Power Girl part, mixed with the Xander part, was me. A blending of Kara Zor-El and Xander Harris. When the spell ended, I was ejected from this universe and sent to another one. I made a life there, got married, bought a house. But since I kept all the super-powers from Power Girl, I've been helping people. But now I'm here, and I want to get home! I've got to get home!”

“Oh wow. You know, Buff, that makes all kinds of sense, now. She can fly and punch out a hell-goddess like a walk in the park because you're a Kryptonian. And now that I look at her armor in the light, I notice that you can see the two fishes.”

“What two fishes?” Vi asked.

“You know, the Superman symbol. Two fishes.”

“Xander, it’s an S. An alien S,” Vi replied.

“Well, it’s always looked like two yellow fishes swimming in opposite directions in a red five-sided diamond to me. And John Byrne agrees with me, and he would know.” Xander stuck his tongue out at Vi, who giggled.

“Actually, it’s not fishes or an S.” All eyes returned to Alex. “It’s an entire word. The Kryptonian alphabet is logographic. Each 'letter' represents an entire word and not just a simple sound. It means hope.”

“So earlier, when you asked if it helped that you weren't a demon, you were being truthful. You're not a demon, you're an alien.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “Never saw that coming. You're really telling the truth. Aren't you?”

Alex just nodded.

“Well,” Giles began. “I suppose we can start researching spells for interdimensional transport. Though I wouldn't begin to know where to start.”

“In the meantime, maybe you can, you know, pitch in. Help out. Save the world.” Xander said.

“Uh, yeah, sure. No problem. Do you guys really think you can get me home?” The desperation in Alex's voice was tangible. “Like I said, I'm married. I've got family who is going to worry about where I am.”

“I think it’s just a matter of time, Ms. Harris.” The older woman, Diana something, nodded.

“Right. Just a matter of time. Yeah, in that case, I can hang around and help out. It would be my pleasure.”

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot happening in this chapter, but I felt it was important. The next chapter, deals with what is going on in the Marvel Universe while Alex is away, just how badly things really are between the Scoobies and Alex, and just who has been manipulating Tony Stark, Carol Danvers, and the other heroes on the pro-registration/pro-fascism side of the argument (and let me tell you, all those people who are now complaining about Carol Danvers and how I've got her acting will, no doubt, say 'Oh, okay, that makes sense. Sorry, I was thought those bad things about you, I’ll shut up now' when you're done reading it).


	28. Conspiracy Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“You don't explain to the janitorial staff how the company he works for is a part of a sinister international conspiracy whose goals is to infiltrate and control the government. You just tell them to clean the floors.” – **Jim Butcher**_

**XxxxxxX**

Alex sighed as she paged through the book she’d been given – it was the _Peregrinus Stella_ , which her mind immediately translated to “Stranger to the Stars” without prompting. That morning, Buffy had gone to the bank to get a loan for home repairs, and had been interrupted by a demon attempting – successfully, at least in part, it seemed – to rob the bank. While the three Slayers – and wasn’t that just a kick in the head, _three_ Slayers; so much for the entire ‘one girl in all the world’ thing – were out rousting the usual suspects for information, the rest of the group, plus Alex who was still looked at suspiciously by some of the group, were trying to figure out what kind of demon they were looking for.

There was nothing there covering tall, muscular lizard-demons who robbed banks, at least not in the _Peregrinus Stella_. Seemed to her that this book was much more Lovecraftian than _Bonny and Clyde_ , concentrating on things from beyond the stars. Still, she promised to help, so she was helping.

Alex pulled herself away from the book and looked around the Magic Box. The entire support crew was there, except Faith and the red-headed Watcher, Lydia Lamontagne. Both women had accompanied the Slayers on their task of busting heads and gathering information.

She stretched and yawned. Normally, Alex had the patience of a saint, but this was just boring. Alex turned her attention to the loft, where the two remaining Watchers seemed to be having more of a tea-and-crumpets mixer than a research party. She could feel the eyes of both Rupert Giles and Diana Dormer on her. They didn’t trust her as far as they could spit a dead rat, it was clear. Alex hoped they got over it, since they were her only way home.

But she was still bored, so when Marie Summers approached Willow Rosenberg, having grabbed one of the unoccupied volumes from the shelves, she immediately latched onto it as a distraction. Marie sat down on the other side of Willow from Oz and opened the book.

“I don’t think so, missy. If Buffy came in and you had your nose in one of these books, she’d have kittens. Brick-shaped kittens that were eating brick-shaped eggrolls, even.” Willow had stopped what she was doing and was focusing on Marie. “You’re not old enough to do research.”

“Oh, come on, Willow. I am so old enough to do research. I’m not a kid. I can handle mature subject matter.” Marie rolled her eyes at Willow. Sensing possible trouble, Alex moved herself around so she was seated on Marie’s other side. Out of all the Scooby Gang, Marie had been the one to accept Alex the easiest. She was still getting ‘I’m all freaked out’ vibes from Buffy.

Willow was vacillating. “Well…”

“It’s not that anyone thinks that you’re too immature, Marie. It’s...” Alex said. She immediately cut herself off. Every eye in the shop turned to her, as if they were surprised she was speaking. It took Alex a moment to realize that she probably shouldn’t be saying anything, as she was still an outsider. “Sorry. Shutting up now.”

“No, it’s a good point.” Willow nodded. “I mean, I personally think you’re way mature for your age, Marine, but the truth is, you’re still just fifteen.”

“Right, fif- _ **teen**_.” Marie responded, putting obvious emphasis on the final syllable of the word. Alex took the opportunity to sneak the book Marie had brought to the table out from under the young girl’s hands. Oz, the only other person at the table to spot the maneuver, gave her a nod and quirked his mouth at her. “You know, as in ‘teenager.’” Marie grinned. “If you don’t let me look at the pictures, I’m gonna learn everything I know about demons out on the street.”

“Willow.” Giles’ voice coming from above, carrying an obvious tone of warning, caused everyone to look up at the two Watchers. Alex shook her head as the older man and the Red Witch had a silent conversation before Willow turned her attention back to Marie. Willow stared at the teenager for a long while, not speaking. Then her eyes traveled to the other people in the room, as if taking a poll. Willow finally landed on Alex, who shrugged, as if to say _Hey, I’m the outsider here, don’t ask me._ After a long pause, she sighed and motioned to Alex to hand the book back to Marie, who almost bounced in place as she took it.

“Here you go, kid.” Alex smirked. “Knock yourself out.”

Above them, Giles let out an exasperated sigh and sat back down to resume his conversation with the other Watcher.

Marie’s grin was larger than her actual face. “Thank you.” She opened the book at random and began flipping through pages. “See? No biggie. I can totally handle it.” She glanced down at the picture on the page in front of her, instantly curious. “Wow, that’s a weird place for a horn.”

Willow caught Alex’s eye behind Marie’s head. One eyebrow rose on the redhead’s face, and Alex just shrugged in response.

“Oh lord, that’s not a horn.” Marie slammed the book shut. She sat there, motionless for a moment, before opening the book back up to the very same page for another look.

Alex couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Once you’re hooked on that demon porn, you’ll never look at _Playboy Magazine_ in quite the same way.” Once again, all eyes were on her, but at least some of the gazes held humor. Eventually, they all went back to the books and were silent for a while. Then Xander spoke.

“I still don’t get it,” he said. “I mean, what kind of demon robs a bank?”

Oz shrugged, and Willow merely shook her head. Alex, on the other hand, went for the obvious answer. “The kind that wants money.”

Xander was undeterred. “Yeah, but what do you even call that?”

“This.” Marie held up another book, proudly. Her finger was pointing to the picture of the demon. “I’m guessing on how you say it, because it’s got an apostrophe, but I think it’s ‘MMM-Fashnik’. Like ‘MMM-cookies’.” Everyone laughed.

“Could be ‘Muh-Fashnik’, like ‘Muh…’ Xander was silent for a small moment, before finishing. “… fashnik.” They were still rolling their eyes at him when Buffy, Dawn, Vi, Faith, and Lydia entered from the back room. As the two Slayers approached the table, Marie stood and thrust the book at her older sister.

“That your guy?” Marie asked.

Buffy didn’t answer, but gave Marie a bemused look. “So, you do research now? You want a cappuccino and a pack of cigarettes to go with that?”

“Would you just look at the picture?” Marie held the picture up so that her sister could see it clearly.

“Doesn’t exactly fit the profile of your typical bank robber.” Dawn said, scrutinizing the pages over Buffy’s shoulder.

Buffy smiled at that. “I dunno… maybe they turned down his loan application.” To Marie, she said, “Yeah, that’s him. Big, bad… this thing was stronger than I was, guys. No weapons I could see, but still real dangerous.”

Both Giles and Dr. Dormer came down from the loft. “So, what have you found out about this demon, Marie?”

“Other than he robs banks,” Willow added.

“Yes, other than that.” Giles continued to Marie, who had returned to her place at the table. He leaned over her shoulder to take in the book. “Ah, M’Fashnik.”

Marie immediately whirled in place to confront Xander. “See? Like MMM-Cookies!”

“Ah, no. Quite different. The M’Fashnik comes from a long line of mercenary demons. They are known to perform acts of mayhem and slaughter for the highest bidder.”

“Well, that is the American way,” Xander joked.

Giles’s face moved into the momentary smirk that he always made when one of Xander’s jokes amused him. The expression never lasted. “Hmm. Quite. But it raises an even more important question: who out there is powerful enough to control one of these things?”

“That’s even less like you’re typical bank robber. I mean, really? Would a sorcerer powerful enough to hire this guy really need to knock over a bank?” Dawn took the book from Marie, stared at the picture for a while, then handed it around.

When it came to Alex, she memorized what the thing looked like. “Well, I can do a sweep of the town, see if I spot him for you. Shouldn’t take me too long, either.”

The Slayers and their Watchers held an impromptu conference using nothing but facial expressions. It made Alex shake her head. “Come on, guys, this isn’t rocket science. Given my sensory abilities, I can probably spot this guy from the moon. You saying you don’t want me to find out where the Guy Behind the Guy is holing up so you can take him down?”

“It’s not that we don’t…” Dawn began. Alex held up a hand and she stopped speaking.

“Sure, it is,” Alex said. “You’re still not convinced I’m not just some weird demon here to infiltrate your lives and kill everyone. You’ve got this ‘Henry Gyrich-something that powerful must be planning on attacking us in our sleep’ vibe going on. I can smell it on all of you. It’s been three months, really, I just want to go home. That’s all. There’s someone back home waiting for me, and she doesn’t know where I am or what happened to me. That’s all. No attacks, no ambushes, just homesickness.”

Buffy had the good grace to look sheepish. “Yeah, okay. I still think you’re a little freaky, but I guess… I mean… you haven’t done anything so far and you’ve offered to help, and I love how you helped with the car the other day.” She took a deep breath and gave Alex a smile. “So, okay, you’re right. You’re absolutely right.” The Slayer took a deep breath and let it out. “Tell you what. You and Vi go see if you can spot this thing, find out where its hiding, and then we can all go in and shut this sorcerer guy down.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment, before Alex nodded, relieved to at least reached a somewhere in the middle with Buffy. “Okay. Me and Vi will go do that.” She glanced over to the youngest Slayer, who was standing next to her boyfriend. Jonathan, for his part, had a hand around her waist, which was easy since when he was sitting and she standing, her waist was at his shoulder height. “Hey, Vi, looks like…”

“Yeah, I heard.” She leaned over and kissed Jonathan on the top of his head. “Be back soon, sweetie.”

Alex headed out of the shop’s front door, Vi in tow. “I figure we can do a quick patrol of the town, and then maybe grab a pizza or two for the group. I don’t know what everyone likes, but you can’t go wrong with a meat extravaganza, right?”

Vi shrugged off the pizza question. “I like ‘em, and I know Jonathan does too. But it’s going to be hours if we’re patrolling the whole town, right?”

Alex stopped and turned, facing the Slayer. “Well, not quite.”

“What do you mean?” Vi put a hand on her hip and tapped her feet impatiently.

“Well, I was thinking we could go the express route.” Before Vi could react, Alex stepped into the younger girl’s personal space, spun her around gently, and grabbed her by the waist. Then she launched herself into the sky.

Vi’s frightened scream made the practical joke aspects of the situation worth it.

**XxxxxxX**

Louise woke slowly, and into darkness, and the wet feeling of the transport gel covering her body. This time, at least, she hadn’t panicked. The first couple of times she had come to surrounded by darkness, feeling gooey and slow because of the gel, with the breathing mask firmly on her face, she’d nearly suffocated herself before the assholes who were moving her noticed and increased her sedation.

Her captors did this now and again. Every so often they stuffed her in a metal tube filled with ‘confinement gel’ – some colorless goop designed to slow movement – and moved her to yet another undisclosed location. One of the guards – saying he was a ‘friendly’ guard was a misnomer, as he was merely less antagonistic – had explained it to her once. All the high-value prisoners were moved around a lot. If the prisoner’s friends and family didn’t know where they were, they had a harder time breaking them out of prison.

The logical, non-emotional side of Louise would say it was probably a good plan. The snarky, sarcastic side of Louise would say it smacked of over-dramatics. The terrorized innocent who was being held prisoner by the military on trumped-up terrorism charges could say it was torture.

_Alex, come get me, I need you! Please come get me!_

The worst part about what she was going through was not knowing how long it had been. She knew it was more than a few days, but beyond that? She had no idea. And Louise knew that keeping the prisoners disoriented like that was another method of control. She had asked one of the guards once, and they told her – except the next time she asked, they told her another number, and it was smaller than the first one. Just another type of torture.

Louise found what comfort she could in cataloging all the things that could have happened, but hadn’t yet. She hadn’t been raped. Even though she was kept naked – she was naked right now, in fact – she hadn’t been sexually violated beyond a certain level. The soldiers holding her might get grabby while moving her around, but there was a line they didn’t cross, apparently. She still had both her eyes, and her fingers and toes were all there. The only thing they’d ever cut off was her hair.

It helped her cope.

_Alex, please hear me. I’m not sure how long I can endure this without going crazy. I can feel it all in the back of my head, just waiting to drown in it. Please come get me!_

**XxxxxxX**

As soon as the frightened surprise wore off and the roller-coaster-thrill caught on, Vi was a more than ideal passenger on the flight over the town. Alex had shifted Vi around into a bridal carry to make the other girl feel safer – she absolutely was not going to let Vi ride her piggy-back style; that was fun reserved for Louise and only for Louise.

“It might be a little difficult to spot it. We’re moving pretty fast.” Vi had to raise her voice above the sound of the wind. She was keeping an eye on the ground as it passed under the two of them.

“Yeah, about that. My eyesight is a lot better than average. Even better than the enhanced senses you get as a Slayer.” Alex swept the neighborhood beneath them, tuning her eyes to X-Ray when she needed to.

“Oh yeah? So, what else can you do?”

“I’m pretty much impossible to hurt, I can hold my breath for a really, really long time. I’m stronger than you would believe, even after watching me beat Glory’s ass. I’m really fast.” Alex shrugged. “I told you guys I was a Kryptonian.”

“I was always more a Marvel fan than DC. You know, Spider-Man. Storm is my favorite superhero. All that girl-power yay me.” Vi smiled as she watched the road beneath her. “When that one guy took her out of X-Men and made her Black Panther’s arm candy, I sort of lost interest. What a waste of a wonderful character. That writer was an idiot, anyway. He even turned the Panther into an arrogant jackass”

Alex smirked. _I might have to go visit the Panther when I get home just to find out what she’s talking about. Now that – wait!_ She surged over a housing development at the foot of Sunny Hills. “Look, over there. Is that our guy?” She pointed with the arm that was supporting Vi’s back. “Over there! I think that’s him!”

Vi followed Alex’s arm. “I can’t tell, I can’t see him.”

“No problem. He walked through the door of the garage on that house there.” She squinted, searching the garage using X-Ray vision. “There’s three guys in there, and they seem to be talking.”

“Well what are we waiting for? Get me on the ground and we can see what’s what.”

“Right, hold on.” Alex dropped like a rock, but slowed enough to land lightly, right outside the garage. She held a finger to her lips, then pointed the same finger to her own ear. Vi nodded and did the universal ‘locking my lips up tight’ sign that caused Alex to grin.

She turned her attention to the voices inside the building. The loudest, angriest of them was obviously the M’Fashnik. “You hired me to create carnage and chaos for you! You told me you were powerful men, commanding machines, magicks, and the demon realms below!”

A second voice, coming from the tallest of the three people, replied, “We are”

A third voice, this one sounding weak and unsure. “Yuh- _huh_.”

And lastly, the fourth, a voice sounding like the third, if a bit deeper. “We're like, super-villains.” Then there was a round of laughter that obviously was meant to be evil and maniacal. To Alex, it sounded like it needed work.”

The demon growled out, “Which of you is leader?”

That was enough for Alex. Motioning for Vi to follow her lead, Alex grabbed the garage door by the exterior handle and lifted. There was a grating sound, the sound of metal grinding on metal. Within seconds, the garage was open to the air, the door permanently raised and jammed into the rails of the opener system. Inside, there were three teenaged boys and the demon.

“Hello, boys! Did we miss the invitation to the party?” Alex smirked at the four. She recognized Tucker Welles and his dweeb baby brother Andrew, but the third guy was a mystery. The entire garage had been converted into a dweeb’s paradise: large screen TV, game system, stacks of bank boxes full of comic books, a wall full of action figures.

And two garbage bags filled with cash from the bank.

“Warren Meers? I thought you skipped town! Aren’t the cops looking for you?” Vi cried out. It figured that the third guy had some sort of history with the Scoobies. Alex ignored it for now.

“You know, boys, summoning a M’Fashnik demon to rob a bank for you is naughty-naughty.” The boys just sat there, but the M’Fashnik roared and charged her. Behind it, the teens had apparently got the message and bolted from their seats.

Alex stepped up to the demon, which swung one of its massive arms at her. She didn’t even attempt to dodge the blow; she just took it on the cheek. The thing roared again and stumbled backward, holding its shattered fist to its chest.

In her peripheral vision, she could see Vi taking this ‘Warren’ guy down with a basic wrist-lock. “Don’t you two move. Not an inch!” The Slayer screamed at the other two boys, who froze. Alex was impressed. For as mousy and unmenacing as she was normally, when she was on the job, Vi was a hard-ass.

The M’Fashnik bared its teeth at Alex and threw another punch. This one Alex caught in one hand and just held there. “Sorry to say, dude, but your ticket was punched when you robbed the bank.” Alex pulled the demon by the arm and twisted, and suddenly its arm was off. Black blood spurted all over the drive-way. A follow-up punch caved in its skull.

She eyed the three boys. Warren was face-down on the pavement, being held there by Vi. The other two were staring at her in horror. “Okay, assholes. Grab up those bags. We’re going to the cops, all of us. Which of these cars is yours?” Andrew Welles pointed to the black van down by the side of the road. “Perfect. Keys?”

Tucker Welles pointed to Warren. After some fishing about, Vi tossed the car keys to Alex. “Let’s get them loaded into the van.”

“Right.” Vi said, hauling Warren to his feet. “You know, Buffy’s going to freak out again.”

“Why the hell would Buffy freak out? I tracked down the demon, found the bad guys who hired him to rob the bank.” She held up the garbage bags full of money in one hand. “Found the stolen money, which is getting returned, I might add. What the heck does she have to get freaked out over?”

“It’s – “Vi waved toward the garage, where the mangled door still hung in the air. “—all that! You’re just so – you can do all this – and it’s not…”

“Oh, for crying out loud, really? More of this horse shit?” Alex huffed. “What part of helping isn’t penetrating your thick skulls already? What do I have to do for you to get that I’m not a threat? Die? Should I just die? Will you be happy then?”

“Hey, you don’t need to – “But that was as far as Vi got.

“Whatever. What the fuck ever, all right? Just… just shut it. Let’s take these assholes to the cops, and then you and your friends can get even more paranoid about me, and I’ll just see if I can’t find some _other_ group of ungrateful, unhelpful assholes to send me home, since you’re all so intent on treating me like shit. And you can tell Buffy I got the fucking message, all, right? You assholes don’t have to keep treating me like I’m some kind of fucking bomb about to explode on you. I’ll just get the fuck away from you and leave you the fuck alone, all right?”

Alex swiped at the tears in her eyes. Fuck! She hated crying in front of people who hurt her.

**XxxxxxX**

Peter Parker tapped on the steering wheel nervously as he drove. There was no way this was going to work. He sighed, and then gave voice to his nerves. “You know, Cap, there’s no way this is going to work.”

“It is going to work. And don’t call me Cap when we’re dressed like this. Call me General, or General Rogers. If you do anything else, you’ll blow our cover.” Peter nodded, still nervous. He looked down at himself. He was dressed in a US Army Class A uniform; Rogers had informed him were called ‘dress greens’. There was a small selection of ribbons on the left side of his chest, and a few medallions and stuff hanging from his right side. His collar on one side had a weird flowery insignia, and the other collar had two silver bars on it.

Next to him, Steve Rogers was dressed in a similar uniform. His medals and decorations were much more extensive, including one on top that Pete recognized as the Congressional Medal of Honor. Cap’s collars had a single star on each of them. And sitting in the back, Janet Van Dyne completed the set; she wore these gold things on her collar that Steve had called ‘oak leaves” but they didn’t look like any oak leaves Peter had ever seen.

“For the record, I don’t like the dress-up part of this mission. I mean – I know this is going to sound like amateur hour and all, but I never served in the military, not even Junior ROTC in high school. It feels…” Peter searched his feelings for a moment. “It feels like I’m doing something wrong by doing this.” He felt dirty, somehow.

“Understandable.” Cap – General Rogers, Peter reminded himself – glanced out his window. “To be honest, I hate having you doing it. No offense, Pete, but civilians dressing up in military uniform and pretending to be soldiers is an offense against every real serviceman who ever lived. But you know the saying about hard choices.”

Peter just nodded. “So, that’s how you deal with this odd feeling of guilt about wearing a uniform you didn’t earn? By repeating that it’s all for the greater good?”

Rogers just smirked and shook his head. “Uh, Peter?” Janet said from the back seat. “Steve’s not wearing a uniform he didn’t earn. He really is, uh, a real general. All those medals are really his.”

Peter gave the man next to him a quick, curious glance. “Really?”

Rogers shrugged. “Yeah. All those years I was in a block of ice, the Army had me listed as missing in action, not killed in action. If you’re missing, your file is kept open, so that if you return, you get everything you’re due, like back pay and such.” He shrugged again. “When I formally retired from the military, I was given a permanent retirement rank of Brigadier General.” Rogers tapped the stars on his collar.

Peter whistled in appreciation. “Wow. So, uh, the medals, they’re all – “Rogers nodded again, silent. “Even the CMH?”

“Even the CMH. Got that in… what was it… 1943, for doing this airdrop into the Schloss Adler. It was a castle the Nazis were using as a planning headquarters in the Bavarian Alps.” Rogers sighed. “That was a different time. Here’s the turn.”

“Right. Sure.” Peter turned into the drive that led directly to the entrance of the military base. “So, all those times Carol pulled rank on you, all those times she gloated about how she was a Lieutenant Colonel and you were a lowly Captain…”

“Yeah, I was letting her get away with that. If I wanted, I could have put a real block on her military career for insubordination. But I didn’t.” Rogers shrugged. “Not worth it at the time. Now everyone ready. If Miss Rosenberg and her people are a third as good as Stark says they are, this will be smooth. If not, we’ll figure it out as we go.”

“Right. No pressure.” He stopped the car just in front of the barricade, the driver’s side window even with the door of the guard shack. The guard stepped out, giving a clipped salute to the car – Peter knew it was to Rogers, as he was the guy with the stars on his uniform, but it was in the direction of the car – and then leaned into the car’s window.

“Good morning, sir, ma’am. I need to see your orders and authorization for entry, please.”

“Certainly.” Rogers nodded to Peter, who fished the manila folder from between their seats. Janet handed Peter the identity card Stark had given her, while Cap handed over his. Peter fished his own out of his breast pocket, then handed all three cards and the folder to the guard.

“One moment, sir.” The guard stepped back into the shack, opening the folder as he went.

“There’s no way this is going to work.” Peter said through clenched teeth. His lips barely moved.

“This is going to work. Calm down. Stark assured us that Rosenberg’s people were solid. We have to trust them.” Peter could hear Janet take a deep breath. “Stay calm.”

The guard was tapping at something unseen, probably a computer terminal. Occasionally, he’d glance at the car. After two minutes, he strode back to the window and handed everything back. “Thank you, sir. Have a good day.” With that, the guard stepped back into the shack. The gate opened and the barricade rose, and as Peter drove on through, the guard saluted again.

**XxxxxxX**

There was a bump. Despite the transport gel holding slowing everything down and making it hard – but not impossible – to move herself around, or to feel the tube moving, there was a bump. Louise felt it, she knew she felt it. There wasn’t any other indicator of sensory input other than the sound of her own pulse in her ears, and then there was another, harder bump. This time, the bump was followed by a ripple in the gel, like a wave that went from the top of the tube, where her head was, down to the bottom near her toes, then back up.

As if the tube was sloshing.

_Alex! I’m here! I’m here! Please, God, come get me! I’m here!_

A third bump, and this time there’s absolutely no mistaking it. The entire tube shuddered.

_That’s right, baby! I’m right here! Please, come and get me! I love you! I just want to be with you! Please come and get me out of this, Alex! Please!_

Without warning, everything shifted. While the gel kept her suspended, there was still the pull of gravity on her inner ear; it wasn’t like floating in water, more like floating on a water bed. She’d always been able to tell which way was down when she was being moved. But now…

Now gravity was pulling a different way, and there were bumps. Louise latched on to the sound, and to the sense of sudden motion, like a lifeboat.

Something had happened.

_She’s coming for me! My baby is coming for me!_

**XxxxxxX**

Everyone looked up as the bell above the door dinged. “Violet, you’re back. How did it go?”

Vi only looked sheepish at Dr. Dormer’s question. “Well, it, uh, it went, I guess. We, uh, well, we flew around town, looking for the demon, and – “

“Wait, you flew?” Buffy was wide-eyed. “As in, she made you fly somehow?”

“Uh, no, Buffy, she picked me up and carried me.” Vi held her arms out in front of her and mimed picking something up in both hands. “You know… like I was a kid. And then she flew.”

“Oh. Well, that’s a relief, I guess.”

Vi stared at Buffy with a sense of growing aggravation. Alex hadn’t said a word to her since they left the Welles house. They drove to the cops, turned the three dweebs in, signed some papers, and left, all without Alex once saying anything to her. She talked to the cops – she even talked to one of the dweebs when the little jerk made some sarcastic comment – but she never once said another thing to Vi. And then she just flew off to who knows where.

The walk back to the Magic Box had given Vi time to think. She’d thought about Alex and her abilities, and then she thought about how Alex had helped them with Glory. They had needed the help. Even with three Slayers and a super-strong robot girl, they had been getting their asses kicked. Marie had almost been sacrificed. Had Alex not shown up like that, the old guy in the suit would have opened Marie up with his knife like a ripe piece of fruit and it would have been all over. Who knows what would have happened.

Since that night, Alex had helped take out vampire nests, had sealed leaks in the basement piped of Buffy’s house, had spent time with Joyce making sure that Buffy’s mom was okay when the rest of them had to go out for other things. She’d helped clean around the house, she’d helped cook. She’d done nothing to merit the paranoia that Buffy, Xander, Willow, and Giles all insisted she be held to.

It had been unfair, and they’d driven the woman away. And all she had wanted was some help getting back home.

“What’s with the face? You’re looking at me like I did something wrong.” Buffy just stood there, staring.

“Why do you have to be a bitch all the time?” Vi startled. She hadn’t intended to say that out loud.

“What? Why the – “Buffy’s mouth dropped open, obviously surprised.

Vi took it as an opportunity. “I’m serious. All Alex wanted was our help getting home, and in return you and your ‘Scoobies’ have been treating her like, like – “ Vi thought about it for a second. “—like she was a yeast infection or something! Even worse, you’ve got us --” Vi motioned to the rest of the group. “– doing it too! What has she ever done to you, Buffy?”

“Where is Alex, Violet?”

Vi turned toward her Watcher. “She flew off. She told me to tell Buffy that she ‘got the message’ and then she just flew off. And she did this after taking care of your bank robber demon, I might add. She was crying as she flew off, Buffy. Crying. Guess that just proves what kind of evil, despicable demon she was after all, right? What with the helping, and the stopping the bad guys, and the crying at being treated like shit by the people she came to for help?” Vi looked down at her hands. They were shaking. She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. She wasn’t sure why, but her sudden realization about how she and Buffy, and all the Scoobies, and even Dawn – everyone but Mrs. Summers – had been treating the newcomer really, really bothered her.

“Vi, look, we don’t know what ‘Alex’ is really, she could be – “ That was as far as Buffy got before Vi’s punch caught her right in the nose. Buffy didn’t fly backward so much as she sat down, hands going to her now bleeding nose.

“Shut up, Buffy. Shut – shut up. I don’t want to hear it from you anymore. I’m a Slayer, too. Just like you, just like Dawn. Which means I get a say in the big decisions, too. And I say, we treated that girl badly and it’s all your fault because you were too damned paranoid to just help her.” Vi stood over Buffy for a minute, then straightened. “I’m going to the training room. Work out some anger.”

Everyone else in the room watched the youngest of the three Slayers leave. Then everyone turned their attention to Buffy, who was still sitting on the floor.

“What was that all about? What the hell did I do?” she asked, dumbstruck.

The gang just looked at her, silently, until finally Tara spoke up. “Vi has a point. You and Xander and Willow and Giles have been treating this girl like she was about to cut our throats in our sleep, but she’s never done anything to warrant it.”

“What about how she took down Glory? What about that?” Xander asked.

“You mean when she helped us beat a Big Bad who was kicking our ass? Yeah, what about that, Xander?” Tara visibly swallowed. She wasn’t used to being the assertive one, or the center of attention. “You all promised to help her. But it’s been three months. Has anyone found anything that can send her back yet?” Tara turned her eyes to her girlfriend, and Willow almost flinched. “Has anyone even really tried yet?”

“Well, I, uh…” Giles began. Then his shoulders slumped. “Right. We’ll get started. I’ll take _Tempestus Libra_. The rest of you, check the codexes. Maybe some sort of homing beacon spell…”

**XxxxxxX**

Peter Parker hung upside down, hidden by the shadows on the ceiling of the loading dock. He’d finally ditched the army uniform for his usual blue-and-red fighting togs. He was waiting for a very specific cargo to be brought in and loaded into one of the trucks. As he waited, he played a game with himself, inventing backstories for the soldiers and marines who scurried around the dock beneath him. Captain America had told him that the fact that members of two different services were deployed to this base was the huge clue something odd was going on. Normally, the Army and the Marines hated each other, even more so than the Army/Navy rivalry. Something about the Marine Corps having to justify its existence as a ‘second army’ or something. Having never been military, Peter wasn’t sure that he understood it all, but that was fine. It was a military thing, as childish as it seemed.

 _“Look alive, Pete. Surveillance says they’ll be there in about 30 seconds.”_ Tony Stark’s voice sounded in his ear. Peter resisted the urge to hold a finger to the earbud he was wearing.

“Got it. What am I looking for, specifically?” When they planned this attack, all they knew was that the target item was going to be transported by truck. They didn’t even have a rough idea about the route, hence the entire ‘sneaking onto the base’ thing. The rest of the details were being learned on the spot.

_“From what Rosenberg’s told us, it’s going to be a long silver tube with lights and controls all over it. Sort of like a big metal coffin. I’ve got Janet following it, but she’s running silent so the solder-boys don’t catch on.”_

“Right. I’ll keep an eye out. Where is Cap?” Peter shifted his position so that he was over the inner set of doors, and flattened himself as close as he could to the ceiling. Given his powers, Peter knew he could hold this pose for hours without so much as blinking.

_“Cap’s beneath you. He switched out his uniform so he looks like just another scut-worker. Don’t worry, when the monkey poo is about to start hitting the rotary ventilator, we’ll let you know.”_ Trust Stark to make jokes at a time like this.

“And this person we’re grabbing, she really is that important?” Peter didn’t really mean to bitch; it’s just that he had some important concerns. Concerns like, ‘is this person really so important that risking the entire leadership of the resistance in one go?’ Not to mention, ‘Is this person worth it going head to head with Carol Danvers and her so-called ‘New Avengers’ over?’

_“Trust me, Pete. Call it long-term planning if you want.”_ Stark was trying to be reassuring. _“We’re going to want this person out of the government’s hands when the storm finally hits. And believe me, when this storm hits, it is going to be Cat 5 Hurricane. We want to be ahead of that.”_

“So, who is she, anyway? All you said was that she was important.” Peter counted the figures moving around below him until he spotted one that could only be Captain America in disguise. “Eyes on you, Cap. If you could confirm…” The one he figured was Captain America rubbed the back of his head and then flashed a quick ‘V for Victory’ as his hand dropped.

_“Didn’t I tell you? She’s Louis Harris. Superwoman’s domestic partner.”_ Stark’s voice was sardonic, almost.

“Her what?”

There was a sigh. _“They’re married. Wives. What you call it. A committed domestic relationship.”_

Peter was silent for a moment. “Huh. I didn’t even know she was gay.” He started to say something else, but then stopped. “Heads up, the package has entered play.” The silver tube, as described, was rolled onto the loading docks by a quintet of marines. At their head was a man in a one-off Captain America costume. A copy of the shield was strapped to his back. Janet squirted through the closing door and flew toward the ceiling, where Peter gave her the high sign. “So, guys, were we expecting Captain Faux-Merica?”

_“Walker’s here? Crap. Okay, no problem. It wasn’t beyond possibility. Everyone get ready. Steve, you know what to do. Wait for them to load the tube onto the truck.”_ The marines below opened the back of one of the cargo trucks and maneuvered the tube toward it. Cap climbed into the driver’s side the truck in question and started the thing’s engine. The Wasp, on the other hand, jetted over the truck, and then in through one of the open windows. With everyone’s attention on the tube and not the truck, it was easy.

“Repositioning.” Peter quietly crawled to a new position over the back of the truck’s cargo trailer. The tube was loaded into position, several of the marines climbing onboard as well. “Okay, we’ve got six shooters in the back of the truck with the tube. Walker’s just standing there.”

_“Right. Cap, when you get the signal... “_ One of the other marines raised the loading dock’s exterior door and made some sort of hand sign. Cap returned the sign and hit the accelerator. As the truck began to move, Peter dropped, to flatten against the top of the trailer.

_“All right, folks, Operation Booty Call is now underway.”_

Peter rolled his eyes again. He lifted his head just far enough to see John Walker – the fake Captain America – sprinting after the truck. “Guys, I think I might have been spotted. Walker’s chasing the truck. I think he might catch us, too.”

_“Yeah, this thing drives like a, well, like a truck.”_ Captain America spoke for the first time. _“Standard acceleration for a vehicle of this size, yeah, he’s going to be on us shortly. Can you handle him, Peter?”_ It was a fundamental truth of the universe that Spider-Man's greatest advantage when it came to fighting others wasn't the fact that he could bench press an elephant that had a family sedan strapped to its back. Neither was it the fact that his reactions were so fast and his agility so acute he could dodge through machine-gun fire without getting hit by a single round. Nor was it his semi-psychic 'spider-sense' that allowed him to anticipate incoming attacks. It wasn't the fact that his IQ landed somewhere on the scale between Tony Stark and Reed Richards. It wasn't the fact that he had willpower matched by none of his fellow heroes outside of – maybe – Captain America.

No, Peter Parker's real advantage was that – no matter how often he triumphed under adverse conditions – other people insisted on underestimating him. Even his friends, people who had known him for decades, continued to underestimate him. And as far as Peter was concerned, that was just fine. Case in point, the question, “Can you handle him, Peter?” For the second and a half it took Walker to catch up with the truck and leap onto its back, Peter considered John Walker, the man the federal government had hired to take Steve Rogers' place in Carol Danvers new 'Avengers' team.

Walker had been subjected to the same sort of experiment which had turned a weakling from Brooklyn into the Star-Spangled Avenger, and thus had gained superior speed and strength. Years of combat training had turned the man into a living weapon, and his dedication to the country and the people therein had turned him into a hero. The man was, by all accounts, a worthy successor to wear the costume, even if he'd been recruited into this new team for purely political reasons. Peter figured that he and Walker might have gotten along, had circumstances been different. Unfortunately, circumstances weren't different. Walker wanted to arrest Peter and his friends and enforce an unreasonable and fascistic decree coming out of the White House, and Peter just wasn't having any.

“Cap, don’t worry about Walker. I’ve got this. John Walker was about to find out the harsh truth. All that 'superior speed and strength – living weapon' stuff meant diddly-squat to Spider-Man. To Peter, someone with all of Captain America's strength and skill might as well have been Joe Blow from Kokomo.

Walker ran along-side the truck for a moment, then leaped up onto it, catching just enough of to cling to. Having no more reason to hide, Peter stood straight up, unperturbed by the truck’s movement. “Hey there! Would you like a hand up?” Walker said nothing, instead choosing to swing himself up and onto the roof of the truck. Peter watched the man gain his feet. Unlike Spider-Man, Walker didn’t cling to things; he was looking decidedly unsteady.

“How are you doing today? Nice day for a drive, don’t you think?” Peter tried again to get a reaction from the other man, but it wasn’t going to happen. Walker reached around and grabbed his shield, mounting it on his arm.

“Peter Parker, you’re under arrest for treason, violating national security, and violations of the Registration Act.” Walker stepped forward in no doubt what he thought was a threatening manner. Thing was, Peter wasn’t having any of it either.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to let you arrest me today.” The big man didn’t bother to listen. He swung at Peter’s head, shield-edge first. Peter didn’t even bother to dodge; he just grabbed the edge of the shield and held it there. “Strike one!” Walker tugged on the shield – and his arm – to no effect, then brought around his other first to strike at Peter. This one Peter did dodge, ducking under the swing, which had the added effect of pulling Walker off balance as he hadn’t let go of the shield yet. With an open hand, Peter shoved the Captain America wannabe away. Walker slid across the edge of the trailer’s roof, grabbing desperately at the edge to prevent himself from falling. “Strike two!”

_“Keep him busy, Pete. We’ve got trouble up ahead. They’re forming a blockade.”_ Stark sounded out of breath.

Walker kipped to his feet, then threw the shield at Peter, simultaneously rushing at him. It was a classic Cap maneuver. Unfortunately, to Peter, the shield was moving like it had to plow through nine feet of molasses. Almost casually, Peter snagged the shield out of the air with his webbing, spun in place, and planted the disk firmly in the gut of Captain John Walker, US Marine Corps.

Walker collapsed around the shield, the force of the impact knocking him from the roof of the truck. Peter let him go, and watched as the man skidded along the road into the grass, then tumbled away uncontrollably. “Walker is done. What’s up with the roadblock?” Peter crouched at the end of the truck, trying to spot any further hostiles. He could see vehicles maneuvering in the distance, but they weren’t going to be in time to stop them from getting the truck and its cargo off the base.

_“Being taken care of as we speak.”_ Peter whipped around, watching as the roadblock at the base’s front gate got closer. Before he could blink, though, a single figure suddenly appeared as if she had teleported into place. The woman – it was a blonde woman, Peter could see that much – waved her arms, and every single car, the spike strips, and all the soldiers and marines – were swept aside as if someone had cleared a table by tipping it. Even the guard shack was ripped up from its moorings.

_“Pete, Sue’s going to need a hand up as we pass. Give her a boost, would you?”_

Peter moved to the edge of the truck and then over the side. He clung there, and as the truck passed, Sue Storm raised her arms. Careful not to injure her, Peter caught her under the arms and lifted her to the truck, then walked her to the roof.

“Wow, Sue, you’re looking good. Funny meeting you here!” Peter smiled under his mask, knowing that Sue could tell it was there anyway.

“Yeah, well, you know how it is, Spidey.” Sue shrugged as she scooted around, maneuvering to take best advantage of Spider-Man as an anchor on top of a moving truck. It caused Peter’s breath to hitch. Despite being happily married, Peter was still a man, and having a beautiful woman wriggle against you like Sue was doing – however much unintentionally – would make anyone’s breath hitch. “You spend your entire life married to one man, things go a little south, and now that you’re a free woman again, there’s nothing much to do on a Tuesday night except pop some corn and watch movies.”

It was meant as a joke, but Peter could catch the pain in what she wasn’t saying almost as easily as the humor in what she was. “Right.” _Reed got custody of the kids._ “When’s the last time you saw Franklin or Valeria?”

“Okay, children,” Stark’s voice again. “Looks like we’ve got about eight minutes before the serious hunt begins. Let’s get someplace safe where we can unload the cargo, lose the truck, and be in the wind again.” There was a chorus of acknowledgements from everyone.

Sue looked at Peter with a dour expression. She just shook her head and looked away.

**XxxxxxX**

Alex sat on the end of the pier, soaking in the sunshine and occasionally kicking her feet in the water. She wasn’t sure why she came here at all, but for some reason it was helping in a ‘not quite really helping’ way. At least it was keeping her calm. Besides, sitting in the sun always felt good to a Kryptonian, and this was no different.

She felt the man approach from the vibrations he imparted to the ground. _Probably the property owner. I should say something to him._ She stood up and brushed off the bottoms of the jeans she had borrowed that morning – from Xander, of all people – and turned.

“Hi there. Sorry, I just needed to think for a moment.”

“You needed to think?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Uh, okay. Needed to think. And you, uh, chose my dock to do it on?”

“Sorry, it was a spur of the moment decision.”

“Right. Did you see the private property and no trespassing signs?”

“Sorry, no, I really didn’t. I do apologize. I’ll just go, okay.”

“All right, this time. If I catch you back up here on my dock again, I’m gonna hafta to call the Sheriff. I don’t like strangers moving around my property.”

“Not to worry, sir. I’m leaving.” Alex picked up the sneakers – also borrowed from Xander – and glanced at the house. It might have been the very same yard as the one she and Louise had bought, but the house was very different. Very different indeed.

Still on stilts, though. That was something.

She sighed. It had been stupid of her to just run away like that. She needed to go back, swallow her pride, apologize, and try and be good until Giles and the other Watchers could figure out how to get her home. She rose into the air, slowly at first to not knock the man over.

“Bye now,” Alex called to the man. Then she was off like a shot.

**XxxxxxX**

They were roughly ten miles from the base, and beginning to feel rather secure that they’d managed to pull it off, when Ares ran across their course, slamming the truck onto two wheels. The truck rocked, almost tipped, and then crashed back down on all fours. In the cab of the truck, Captain America and the Wasp were jostled but okay. Still sitting on top of the truck, Peter managed to catch Sue Storm’s wrist in one hand before she was thrown off and into oncoming traffic.

 _“Stark, we got trouble. Looks like Ares found us,”_ he heard Cap report.

Stark’s response was instant. _“Do your best to hold him off. Backup is on your way. ETA fifteen seconds.”_

Peter looked down at the Invisible Woman, who nodded and faded into non-existence. He let go of her wrist, knowing she could take care of herself, and then leapt from the top of the truck toward the God of War. He managed to tuck into a roll to dodge Ares’ counter-attack, then kicked the god in the back of the legs. It was like kicking iron girders; Ares’ knees barely moved, but it was enough to throw the Olympian off balance. Spider-Man dodged four more punches, each faster and closer to the mark than the last. He knew that it was only a matter of time before one connected, but that was what they needed. Time.

Peter sprang over the god’s head and rolled toward a parked car. With a strength few knew he had, he flung the car toward his opponent. Ares looked braced to knock it aside when suddenly the God of War was knocked back on his heels. The Invisible Woman, suddenly visible, gestured, and an unseen force again slammed into Ares.

Captain America sprang from the truck, leading with his shield. The disk bounced from one of Ares gauntlets back into Cap’s hand. The Star-Spangled Avenger went high, aiming punch and shield-strikes at Ares’ upper body, and dodging as the god retaliated. Spider-Man dove for the god’s legs and came up standing, dumping Ares on his back, but he couldn’t get out of his opponent’s reach in time. Ares grabbed Peter by the ankle and tossed him into the wall of the closest building. Peter’s vision grayed out, but he clambered back to his feet as best he could. Ares was advancing on Sue, apparently gritting his teeth through the force of her strikes.

And then the cavalry arrived.

A quinjet rushed overhead, pausing long enough for Wonder Man and Hercules to both come plummeting out of the sky. They landed to either side of Ares and immediately waded in on the God of War. Ares tried to resist, but it was fruitless. The other two men, with the assistance of the Invisible Woman, had him down and unconscious quickly.

“Peter, are you okay?” Peter shook his head to clear his vision. It was Sue. “Peter?” He tried to answer her, but there was something keeping him from taking a deep breath. Sue turned away from him. “I think Peter’s hurt.”

“Get him on board the jet, we’ll get him to a hospital.” Stark’s voice ordered. “Janet too. She’s still out from where she hit her head when Ares hit us.” The quinjet maneuvered into a wider spot on the road and then landed straight down, the benefit of being a VTOL aircraft. “Simon, Herc… grab the cargo. Try not to hurt the soldiers too much.”

Peter fought away unconsciousness while Sue all but carried him up the jet’s back ramp. She strapped him into one of the jump couches in the back, the ones designed for quick naps. Next to him, Cap did the same to Janet van Dyne, who had a smear of blood above one eyebrow. “I’m… I’ll be… fine,” he managed to wheeze. “Just got to…”

“Just got to shut up and rest.” Sue patted him on the wrist, then moved to make way for the tube they were after. Peter could see Sue grit her teeth. The woman inside the tube had been mistreated, badly, and they all knew it. Now it was their job to heal the woman’s hurts and sooth her situation. Tony stark had repeated this, endlessly.

_If Louise Harris has been harmed by this government, then I swear to all of you blood is going to rain from the sky, by the gallon. It’s only a matter of time before she –_ Stark never elaborated on who ‘she’ was supposed to be, but knowing now that this was Superwoman’s girlfriend, Peter could figure it out _– returns from wherever they sent her._ Stark never elaborated on this, either, but he was certain that Superwoman would be back, and would be back relatively soon. _And when she gets back, if Louise Harris isn’t in good shape physically and psychologically, then the mountains will fall and the seas will boil._

As Peter finally gave in to unconsciousness, his last thought was of the operation: _I think we might have just averted an apocalypse. How about that?_

**XxxxxxX**

“So, you’re telling me they got away with her?” The President of the United States glanced at his wrist-watch for about the eighth time.  
General Thaddeus Ross, known better among his troops as ‘Thunderbolt Ross’, cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. Unfortunately, that’s what I am saying. We found the truck in a side-street near the base. The tube we found in shallow water near Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore. Looked like it had been dropped from a great height.”

“Like maybe they tossed it out a that airplane of theirs? That figures.” The president huffed, but nodded. “Nothin’ on the surveillance satellites yet?”

“No, sir.”

“All right, General. I’m sure yer men did as best they could. You can go. You can all go.”

Ross straightened, then said, “Thank you, Mr. President.” There was an echoing round as everyone else in the room followed Ross’s example and left, leaving only the President and the Vice-President in the oval office.

“Well, this is God-damned inconvenient, don’t you think?” The president’s Texas accent vanished, replaced by a slight tinge of Eastern Europe.

“It is, yes.” The Vice-President shrugged. “No use worrying. We have to advance the plan.”

“Yes, I am aware, but I’m the one who had to make the report.” With that, the president removed a key from his pocket, and used it to open a locked drawer in the bottom of his desk. From it, he removed an old fashioned looking phone base and receiver. It had to dial or punch-numbers, just a thick wire leading back to the desk. The president lifted the receiver and waited.

“Yes?” The voice sounded electronic and slightly inhuman, but it always did.

“We no longer have our insurance card against Karen Starr. She was rescued. Looks like Rogers did it with a little help from his friends.” The president glanced at the vice-president, who nodded. “The Avengers we still have who are loyal to us were ineffective.”

“No doubt.” There was a dry chuckle on the other end of the line. “These 'New Avengers' are hardly equal to Stark, Rogers, and their teammates. I’m sure the fact that they are all under the effects of Phillip Masters’ compound didn’t help. From experience, I can tell you it makes your head feel like it’s stuffed with cotton, you end up an emotional wreck, and it’s simply hard to act rational. It is to be expected. But you know the saying about eggs and omelets.”

There was a pause. The president started to speak, but was cut off.

“Don't worry. If there is one thing I've learned over the years, when dealing with superheroes sometimes things work out, and sometimes they don't.” The voice on the other end of the phone sounded reassuring. “When this mission began back in the summer of 2002, you knew it would take patience. Now that patience is paying off. You are doing an excellent job, Mr. Smerdyakov. Do not let a few set-backs break your dedication to the mission. It isn't over yet”

The Chameleon, still wearing the appearance of George W. Bush, smiled even if the man on the other end of the phone call could not see it. “Of course, Baron. You are correct. I'll get back to work. Hail Hydra!”

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some trouble with this chapter. For the longest time, I couldn’t get it to work and couldn’t get it to work and couldn’t get it to work. And then suddenly it worked. It did not end up like I thought it would. Well, I mean, the last bit with the president was the first thing I wrote. No, I meant, the rest of the chapter went to a place I didn’t suspect it would when I started.
> 
>  
> 
> Captain America at one point mentions Schloss Adler castle. For those out there who are fans of war films, Schloss Adler was the castle that the heroes infiltrated in the 1968 film _Where Eagles Dare_ , which starred Richard Burton and Clint Eastwood. It’s an excellent and fun film and I recommend it.
> 
>  
> 
> Speaking of Captain America, Steve Rogers’ retirement promotion to Brigadier General (that is, to “One-Star General”) is an official part of the Marvel canon. It happened in the “Homeland” storyline in 2002. This promotion has never been retracted, contradicted, or ret-conned into non-existence, which means he remains a Brigadier General to this day.
> 
> Steve Rogers being awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor is my personal interpretation of something that happened in the pages of Captain America, in which he received the “Presidential Medal of Valor” from Franklin Roosevelt. In that issue, the “Medal of Valor” was described as “the country’s greatest medal for bravery.” Stan Lee later explained that they didn’t call it a “Medal of Honor” because he felt that would be disrespectful to the soldiers, sailors, and marines of time who had earned the real thing.
> 
> So, all I did here was change the name.
> 
> And he’s wearing the medal because it’s a part of his uniform.
> 
>  
> 
> To all those people who have been complaining about me distorting characters, whether it was the President of the United States or Carol Danvers or anyone else, all I can say is next time, trust the author to know what the fuck he is doing. And to Demona over at Twisting the Hellmouth, who ran me and several other from the site because she objected to how I was portraying Bush, well… now you know why he was acting that way. And you’re still an idiot.
> 
> Always trust your author to know what he is doing until he absolutely proves he doesn’t.
> 
> And to the one chucklehead who responded to that last sentence with “So, we’re not allowed to criticize you?” do me a favor and go soak your head. You know as well as I do that no, that’s not what I mean. What I mean is that I know more about the story than you do, so maybe you need to think about just what you’ve decided is “wrong” with the narrative of my story.


	29. No.  You Move!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
> Note: the writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“Y’all got on this boat for different reasons, but y’all come to the same place. So now I’m asking more of you than I have before. Maybe all. Sure as I know anything, I know this: they will try again. Maybe on another world, maybe on this very ground swept clean. A year from now, ten? They’ll swing back to the belief that they can make people… better. And I do not hold to that.”_

_So no more runnin’. I aim to misbehave.”_

_\-- **Captain Malcolm Reynolds** (Nathan Fillion), “Serenity”_

**XxxxxxX**

Louise stood on the balcony and sighed, completely ignoring the vista that presented itself to her. Even at night, the view from the Royal Palace was beautiful, to be sure. But her mind was on other things that were distracting her from enjoying it as much as she otherwise would.

No one could tell her where Alex was.

Wonder Man – Simon. He said to call him Simon, she thought to herself – told her that Alex had disappeared in some sort of cage of bright yellow light. Just vanished into the ground. Alex hadn’t been sighted anywhere sense. It was like she’d been erased from the world. She sighed again.

“All right, enough moping.” A woman’s voice said, loud enough to be heard over the street traffic below the balcony. “You’ve been standing there sighing and staring at the lake for ten minutes now. It just isn’t healthy.” Louise turned toward the speaker. Natasha Romanova – the Black Widow – stood in the doorway holding on to a garment bag. Stark had assigned the Widow as Louise’s personal watchdog-slash-bodyguard and told the pair to get the hell out of the United States until the crisis was over.

The American government had declared the Avengers who had rescued her wanted terrorists, and was offering a hefty reward for their capture. While Louise wasn’t convinced that they were safe, Mr. Stark had told her that at the very least, no one in the government of Wakanda would respond to American demands for their return, even if they were spotted.

One of the benefits of being a friend of the King, Stark had said. They were staying within the sanctuary offered by the Kingdom of Wakanda as guests of King T’Challa Bashenga and his new bride, Queen Ororo. The castle had an exotic sense of luxury, different from what she’d seen for her own eyes in American hotels, and in European hotels in movies. There was artwork everywhere, and it had an exotic edge since it wasn’t the usual European classics.

Officially, she and Natasha were the Dorchev sisters, Nedelya and Milka, daughters of a wealthy Bulgarian magnate. Louise had even changed her hair to match that of the Widow. Louise never questioned where the apparently real Bulgarian passport came from, never tried to imitate the perfect Bulgarian accent that Natasha could speak with, and never tried to speak Bulgarian (she did learn a few words, but the Widow told her that she spoke Bulgarian like an American – badly).

“Enough moping?” Louise asked?

“Yes. We’re in ‘the Monaco of Africa’ after all. There are fourteen night clubs and a casino in this city, and you and I are going to hit a couple of them.” The Widow handed Louise the garment bag. “Now, go get cleaned up, put your best face on, and get dressed in this. We’ll be leaving in about an hour to get dinner first. Then some dancing, and maybe some games at a casino.”

“I’ve never been to a casino.”

The Widow just smirked. “That’s all right. We’re playing with Tony Stark’s money. Don’t worry about being bad at any of the games you try.”

Louise nodded, still holding the garment bag, and turned her attention back to the view past the balcony. “Okay, give me a sec.” Far above, in the sky, she saw the quick flare of a meteor and made a wish, just like she’d done when she was a child and her daddy shown her a shooting star.

_I wish Alex was back here with me, safe and sound._

**XxxxxxX**

Had there been enough atmosphere to carry the sound, the noise of the event would have been deafening; as it was, the entire cataclysmic instance came and went in complete silence. A sudden burst of heat and light and radiation accompanied the tearing open of a hole in the very fabric of reality. The hole existed for only a moment, if such things can be said to exist at all, but that was enough for it to spit forth a flesh-and-blood figure of human shape and proportion, clad in a suit of blue, a red-cape trailing away from its shoulders. The figure had been propelled as if it was a bullet fired from a gun.

Alex Harris blinked, twice, surprised by her whereabouts despite having been prepared for it. A moment ago, she had been standing in the middle of a magic circle painted on the floor of the training room behind the Magic Box. She’d been surrounded by the various members of the Scooby Gang. Then there had been a greenish flow, a bright flash, and suddenly she was here, above the earth, falling uncontrollably.

It took her a moment to realize where she was, and the grin that spread across her face when she did would have been heartwarming had anyone been there to see it. _I’m home. I’ve got to be home!_ Beneath her, Central Europe rotated past, just fast enough for the rotation of the Earth to be visible.

Alex turned herself, stabilizing herself out of the tumble and falling purposefully toward the earth. Below her, the landscape sped past ever-faster as she accelerated. As she flew, she let out a silent _whoop_ of triumph. There wasn’t enough air yet for it to be heard anywhere but in her own head, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the feeling behind it.

The friction from her passing left a quick, short-lived streak of light through the sky.

**XxxxxxX**

Senior Airman David Keller was tired and hated it. In his opinion, it wasn't fair; no matter how much sleep he got, he still felt exhausted during the overnight shift. Even after nearly three years at the same station, his body just wasn't adjusting to not sleeping at night. The temperature still sucked, the lack of decent entertainment still sucked. And he still couldn’t get decent oranges here without having them flown up himself. If it weren’t for the prestige of the posting, he’d have begged for a transfer long ago.

Alaska was still an insult to shitholes.

The radar screen was obligingly clear. Occasionally, the radar pick-up would read a scheduled space launch from Cape Canaveral, or from Jiuquan in China, Baikonur in Khazakstan, or Kagoshima in Japan. But mostly from Cape Canaveral. The launches from the southern hemisphere were monitored by a separate facility. On other occasions, they'd pick up high-altitude testing of experimental aircraft, or a trans-polar passenger plane, or a larger-than-normal meteor. And on very rare occasions they could track the atmospheric re-entry of one of the larger pieces of space-trash.

Once they'd been able to track the homicidal artificial intelligence known as Ultron as it attempted to escape the Avengers. That was a fun night, with many a bet made between radar operators. And on another occasion they’d tracked the new superhero, Superwoman, as she had re-entered the atmosphere and crashed to the ground in an uncontrolled fall.

And survived. That was the damnedest thing. She had actually, no-shit, survived falling from orbit.

There had been other occasions where they’d tracked Superwoman entering and exiting the atmosphere. Not often, but sometimes. Always in a high ballistic arc, which every rocket enthusiast could tell you was the fastest way to travel on a globe the size of earth if you wanted to get from one side of a continent to another in record time. But nothing in a while. Not in a long while. Word getting around was that she was wanted by Homeland Security for not putting up with the Registration Act.

In addition to oranges, the other thing he regularly had shipped up from home was copies of the Orlando Sentinel. His mom and dad had organized a subscription of his hometown paper and while it might get to him three days late, he enjoyed reading the huge newspaper during his off-time. Hell, so did his bunkmates, for that matter.

He’d read about Superwoman’s exploits, helping people. Rescuing people whose houses had caught fire, or who were stuck in an ambulance that couldn’t cut through traffic, or keeping a train from derailing and a boat from sinking. She did more than just fighting supervillains. A true hero. And Superwoman had spoken out in the newspaper regarding her opinion about the Registration Act and how much of it violated the US Constitution.

The same US Constitution that he’d sworn to uphold against all enemies, foreign and domestic.

They hadn’t seen her show up on radar for a while, but according to the CO, they were supposed to be on the lookout for her.

He yawned again. Tonight, nothing was being launched, there was no space-junk falling out of the sky, and no superheroes or supervillains, and that was a good thing. When you were a radar telemetry specialist for the North American Aerospace Defense Command, “boring and empty screens” was the preferred status. 'Boring and empty' meant none of the members of the Worldwide Nuclear Club was angry at another member. 'Boring and empty' meant that, for tonight at least, there wasn't going to be a nuclear war.

He brought his hand up to his eyes again and closed them, pressing slightly. While his eyes were closed, he yawned a third time, wider than the last two times. It was during this third yawn that a white circle about the size of a grain of rice popped up onto his screen out of nowhere. His computer, which thought infinitely faster than he did immediately labeled the new contact MH8-0017.

Keller’s mouth dropped open when he reopened his eyes and spotted the white spot on his screen. MH8 was the prefix code for Superwoman. Seventeen was the number of times they’d tracked her on radar.

He stared at the indicator a moment before realizing what it indicated. _Oh shit! She’s back!_

By habit, he immediately ran the target analysis program, making the track on the signal much more precise. No sign of exit, but a definite re-entry, and a definite course and speed. Superwoman was falling in a controlled dive, heading south-east. Her track wasn’t shallow enough to indicate an impact point, but given that he knew she could fly under her own power, this wasn’t a surprise. Superwoman was skimming the upper atmosphere, and it looked to him like her final destination was in the south-east. Florida was the obvious guess.

Superwoman was heading home.

“Control, Station Four.” He hit his com-button.

_“Go, Four.”_ The voice of Captain Lorraine Pye came back to him. She sounded tired to Keller, but his was not to question.

“I, uh, got something here you should take a look at, ma’am. I think I’m getting static on my screen and want you to okay a transfer to secondary.” Okay, so it was a lie. But the Captain was a pretty good officer to work under, and he figured she’d cut him some slack.

_“Be right there.”_

It took the duty officer less than a minute to arrive at his station. Keller pushed his headset away from his ears to avoid the possible feedback squeal caused by her headset's close proximity as he turned to address her.

“Ma’am, I’ve got a track here I’m fairly sure is Superwoman.” He looked up into her eyes, which widened at the news. “I know we were told to keep an eye out because Homeland wanted her…” he trailed off as he saw her eyes narrow. It was clear that Captain Pye wasn’t paying attention anymore. She was staring at his tracking screen, while her jaw was working, as if she was grinding her teeth. Keller just watched the duty officer and waited for her to say something.

“You’re from Orlando, right Keller?” Pye asked suddenly.

Keller nodded at first, but then realized she still wasn’t watching. “Ocoee, actually. Just outside Orlando.”

Pye nodded. “I’m from Crawfordville; up in the panhandle, near Tallahassee. In Wakulla County.” She was still staring at the track.

“Don’t think I’ve ever been there, ma’am.” Keller just waited. He was waiting for her to make a decision he was too cowardly to make on his own.

“Would be surprised if you had. Wakulla County’s the size of the state of Delaware but only has about eighteen thousand people in it. I got out as soon as I could.” Pye leaned over Keller and tapped the screen, finally looking at him for the first time since he told her what he was tracking. “You know, last year during Hurricane Ivan, she kept the ocean from eating Saint Marks.” At Keller’s blank look, she continued. “Saint Marks is a tiny fishing town right on the Gulf of Mexico, not ten miles from where I grew up in Crawfordville. The town had already begun to flood when she got there. They’d already lost thirteen buildings and nearly ten people had already drowned. The FEMA people say that had she not stopped it, the entire town would have drowned under the weight of the water. But she did stop it.”

Keller nodded, understanding. “She kept my cousin Billy from dying in a tornado. No shit, it was headed toward the trailer park he lived in, down in Kissimmee. She just stopped it.”

“Yeah.” Pye stood back up, then looked at him again. “All right. Looks like what you have there is a slow-burn meteor. Better reclassify it and make sure it’s recorded correctly in your log.”

Keller grinned. “Yes ma’am. On it, ma’am.”

Seems he wasn’t the only Floridian fed up with the entire Nazi-assed un-American Registration Act bullshit. Keller kept the grin for the rest of his shift.

**XxxxxxX**

Alex landed gently, barely even creasing the sea grass of the back yard. There weren’t any lights on in the house, but that wasn’t unusual given that it had to be three or four o’clock in the morning. She knew time ran slower here than in Buffy’s world, but given that Alex had been trapped there for close to four months, that still meant Alex had been missing from Louise’s life for at least a month of this world’s time.

Alex wasn’t too worried about Louise’s health or welfare, as she knew that Stark, and probably Coulson too, would have looked out for her. But no one liked being separated from their loved ones without any contact for a month. Lord knew Alex hated it.

She stepped up onto the porch and to the glass door that led to the kitchen. She frowned a bit, as the place seemed too dark; not even the little light – the one Louise called the ‘don’t spill light’ – over the refrigerator’s ice and water dispenser was on, and that thing never turned off. Still frowning, Alex tapped on the glass.

Nothing.

She tapped again.

Still nothing.

Alex frowned again and tuned her vision up to the X-Ray level. There was no one there. The house was completely empty. Her vision dropped to infrared to verify, and Alex was shocked to see that aside from the attic, which was slightly warmer, and the crawlspace between the house and the ground, which was slightly cooler, the entire building was as close to a uniform temperature as an empty house sitting on an island in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico ever got.

“What the fuck is going on?” She grasped at the door’s handle, and only then did she notice the tape. It was almost the same color of the house, and in the dark, she had missed it the first time. But not anymore. Now, the night lit up like it had been hit by a spotlight.

It was a pair of legal notices, one taped over another. The top one read FEDERAL PROPERTY AUCTION NOTICE, followed by a bunch of legalese and some phone numbers and a bunch of other irrelevant nonsense and a SOLD notification. _Louise sold the house? No, it said it was Federal. The Federal government sold my house? Why would they…_ The thought trailed off as she peeled away the top layer. Beneath it was another notice, this one marked FEDERAL SEIZURE OF PROPERTY ORDER signed by a judge who worked for the 16th Judicial Circuit, in Monroe County.

And next to that was the notice that the building was now the consular property of the Wakandan government, that entry was forbidden, that there was no trespassing without the express permission of the Wakandan government, and that anyone wishing entry was to contact the Wakandan ambassador T’Shan at his offices in Manhattan.

The thing even had a phone number.

Alex peered through the glass into the living room. The kitchen hadn’t had many clues that things weren’t the way they were when she got shunted into Buffyworld. I should have looked at the living room first, she thought to herself. There were boxes everywhere, and the stuff not in boxes were all covered in drop-cloths and dust covers.

Surprisingly, for a house that had been sold at auction to a foreign government, it looked like all the furniture was still in place.

“Contact the Wakandan ambassador.” Alex growled to herself. “No. I’ve got a much better idea. Much, much better idea.” She was going to find out what the fuck was going on, and there was one thing all those comic books had taught the Xander side of her personality, it was that when it came to Wakanda, the person you went to for information wasn’t some asshole in Manhattan. It was the asshole with the crown, the one in Wakanda City.

She turned and strode from the porch and back into the yard and without any hesitation at all was flying straight up into the sky. To be honest, Alex only had a rough idea where Wakanda was located when it came to the continent of Africa. All her Xander memories could remember from the comics was that Wakanda was somewhere south of Egypt and north of Mozambique; that might have been helpful had Kara memories not told her that the area between Egypt and Mozambique was basically half of the entire continent.

It might take time, but she didn’t give a shit. She’d find Wakanda. Then she’d talk to the Black Panther. And then she’d find Louise. And she really didn’t care how many heads she had to bust in the meantime.

**XxxxxxX**

The trip from Florida to the eastern coast of Africa took less than twenty minutes. She’d gone back into orbit in a ballistic arc, and then come down directly toward Africa. Simply put, it was the fastest and easiest way to travel from one continent to the other.

Of course, once she was in the sky over Africa, the real delays began. In her ballistic descent to Africa, Alex had intentionally aimed at one of the bright spots on the coast, a large city she could see from orbit. Alex had been expecting to deal with the language barrier, but it turned out the city in question had been Monrovia, the capital of Liberia, and in Liberia the national language was English.

Most of the people Alex encountered in Monrovia wanted nothing to do with her, and had no idea how to deal with her presence in the first place. It wasn’t until she found a man in uniform – apparently an officer in Liberia’s army – that she found someone who could tell her, generally, in what direction Wakanda lied in relation to Liberia.

The man had told her that, “Wakanda is between Uganda and the Sudan.” That just left her the task of finding Uganda, or the Sudan, and then further narrowing the search.

It took her eight hours.

**XxxxxxX**

“What is going on?” His Royal Majesty, T’Challa Bashenga, King of Wakanda, Guardian of the Ugand Jungle, Avatar of the Black Panther, strode into his war room accompanied by two bodyguards. These men took up positions near the door and immediately because as inconspicuous as possible. There were three people in the room, awaiting the king. General K’Nar Osago, commander-in-chief of the Wakandan military, Alice Shuri, Intelligence Minister, and Benedict Tokwenda, the Wakandan Minister of State. Above their heads, a series of display screens held images of maps and radar tracks and blurry photographs of a small dark-colored object.

T’Challa immediately turned toward the general, who correctly took the king’s nod to be a command to begin speaking. “My king, intercept radar has picked up an object heading into Wakandan airspace at super-sonic velocities. The radar return is – well, it is odd, Your Majesty. It doesn’t have the silhouette of an aircraft, it is too small to be a cruise missile, and yet the speed and maneuvering of the object would tend to indicate a missile of some sort.” The general looked truly mystified.

“We have had no indications of missiles being fired by any of our neighbors, nor from any aircraft or ship at sea.” Minister Shuri, tapped on a control wand and immediately, one of the maps was replaced by another, focusing on Wakanda’s neighbor to the north. “We do have a track on it that marks the object’s origins in the southern Sudan. But they simply do not have the capability to launch such a weapon.”

T’Challa stared at the image, thinking. “Ah. I see. Yes. I understand.” He grinned and shook his head. “Everyone is to stand down, and no interference is to be offered to this ‘missile.’ I’m going to the throne room. Please have the queen meet me there; I think her presence might send the right message.” The king paused at the door. “Is Ms. Harris in the palace?” At his advisor’s nod, he smiled. “Good. If someone could have Ms. Harris escorted to the throne room as quickly and as politely as possible. Let her know it’s not an emergency and she’s not in trouble. Just get her there as quickly as you can.”

“Your majesty?” Minister Tokwenda, asked.

“We’re about to have a visitor. Potentially, a very angry visitor.” T’Challa nodded to the screen. “Someone just visited our new consulate in the Florida Keys. Someone who is quite capable of raining the palace down upon our heads like an avalanche.”

**XxxxxxX**

Finding T’Challa was surprisingly easy once she made it to Wakanda. Turns out the country only had one major city, and that was the capital. Lots of little towns and villages, sure, but it was sort of like Delaware. Once you were out of Dover, Delaware, you were in rural farm country, or the woods. The same principles applied.

On her approach, Alex scanned the palace with her X-Ray vision, trying to place the inhabitants in this or that room. It came as a surprise, then to find that the building wasn’t see-through to her senses. “Ah, right. Adamantium and vibranium.” Alex said to herself. “Might be tough to punch through.” She shrugged as the solution had readily presented itself. There was a large balcony at the top of the palace, and the doors leading from the balcony to the building’s interior were standing open. The balcony was well-lit, and a young woman stood just to the edge of the shadows, looking into the sky as if trying to find something.

Alex knew that she was the only thing in the sky. It was most likely her the woman was looking for.

“Come into my parlor…” Alex muttered to herself. It was either a trap, or a welcome wagon. She hoped it was the latter.

Alex dropped from the sky, landing quietly right next to the woman. She couldn’t help but grin when the other woman cried out in surprise at the sudden appearance of the superhero.

“You okay?” Alex smiled. She tried to project unimpressed caution. Not thinking she could get hurt, but ready for a fight anyway.

“Yes.” The woman fought to get her breathing under control. “I was just surprised. I am Angela, personal private secretary to His Majesty, King T’Challa. The king instructed me to wait out here for you, and then escort you to the throne room.”

“Uh-huh. And he knew I was coming because…” Alex figured she knew already; it wasn’t a secret that she showed up on radar.

“Your radar signature.”

“My radar signature?” Alex almost snorted. At least they were being honest. “Right. My radar signature. Of course. So. Shall we?” Alex gestured toward the open doors.

“We shall, yes.” The other woman – Angela, no last name given – waved a hand toward them, gesturing for Alex to go first.

They stepped from the balcony and into what had to be the royal court, or the throne room or the audience chamber of whatever kings call the big room where the fancy chair sits, the place where they have all those meetings with crowds of people wanting to meet the king in all the movies.

And standing in the middle of the room, in a tailored suit that had probably cost more than any car she had ever owned, stood T’Challa. Ruler of the entire country. Well. I’ll give him this, he’s impressive. The man had a – Alex chuckled to herself when she realized the only word that was coming to her was ‘regality’ – about him that could not be denied. And the parts of her that were still Kara Zor-El couldn’t help but note the man was amazingly handsome.

And standing next to him was Storm herself. Ororo Monroe. Former X-Man turned African queen. Alex wondered why she was there for a moment, but came up with an easy answer: not only was she an extra gun, being able to mentally manipulate weather conditions, but she was an indication that they weren’t interested in fighting.

Arguing, maybe, but not fighting.

“Ah! Alexandra Harris. Superwoman. Welcome, come in. Come, let’s have a seat. I’m sure there are many things you wish to speak about.” The king gestured toward a low table, around which four chairs had been placed. The table was almost artistically fine in its construction and appearance, and the chairs looked fancy and expensive. _Is that gold leaf paint?_

Alex decided to go along with it, but she wasn’t going to play this game on his terms. “Thank you.” She glanced at him as she sat.

“So, you are here. I’ll be honest, Ms. Harris. I thought you were dead.”

“Yeah, well, you know the old Mark Twain saying. Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated.” Alex shrugged. “You bought my house.”

“Did you know that Twain never actually said that? It’s a misquote. Apparently one of his cousins was deathly ill, and a reporter got word about it and somehow turned it into Twain himself dying, instead of merely an ill cousin. What he actually said was ‘the report of my illness grew out of his illness, and the report of my death was an exaggeration.” T’Challa gestured and out of nowhere a pair of servants arrived with a tea set. “The government of Wakanda bought your house at auction after it was seized by the American government, yes.”

“And you are turning it into a consulate?” Alex’s eyes never left the Black Panther as he poured himself and his wife tea. His eyebrow quirked the question at her. Alex thought about it, then nodded. “Thank you, that would be fine.”

“Nothing so dramatic, actually. We declared our intentions to turn the house into a consulate, yes.” The king handed the cups or tea around. “Mostly that was so we didn’t have nosy governmental types poking around in it. The entire thing was a favor done for Tony Stark.”

“Okay, would you mind explaining that one?” Alex suddenly became aware that she was being really, really pushy with a guy who ran his own country. “Uh, your majesty.”

“Certainly. Tony Stark, who is not quite a friend of mine but to whom I owe a long series of favors, asked me for my help in preserving your possessions from government raiders after you were exiled to wherever you were sent, and after your domestic partner was arrested.” He took a sip of his tea before continuing. At the news that Louise had been arrested, Alex had leapt to her feet.

For the first time, Queen Ororo spoke. “Please, sit back down, Ms. Harris. Your partner is quite safe. She should be joining us soon. We both know you haven’t seen each other in a while, and that you are worried. We understand. But she’s fine.”

Alex took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then sat. Louise will be here soon! It was enough. “All right.” She took another deep breath. “I’m calm. Go on.”

“Yes. Well, the Justice Department of the United States seized your house, your car, and your belongings under the RICO act on charges of terrorism.” The king put his teacup down. “After a month, they were put to auction, and at Tony Stark’s request my agents purchased everything they could. We managed to acquire your house and most of the personal possessions that were on sale.”

“We couldn’t save everything, unfortunately. You’re going to have to purchase a new wardrobe. Some of your smaller possessions.” Ororo added.

“Did they get to our bank accounts?” Alex was thinking hard. Their accounts had been in the Grand Caymans, where they should have been safe behind heavy security and a strict policy of non-interference and neutrality when it came to who they did business with. It was likely the bankers there had told the US government to get stuffed when they came sniffing around, but it was barely possible that they caved.

“As far as Tony Stark’s money men know, your bank accounts are still there, waiting for you to use them again whenever you can get in touch with your bank.” T’Challa smirked. “Should I ask where a pair of young women who were once homeless managed to scrape up over $700 million?”

“Probably not.” Alex shrugged and smiled.

Ororo laughed with her. “Sounds like an interesting story. Are you sure you don’t want to share?”

“Well…” Alex thought about it. “Louise and I and some friends of ours figured that Norman…”

“ALEX!” _She’s here!_ Alex was up and out of her seat so quickly the expensive chair with its gold-leaf paint fell over behind her. Alex couldn’t care less. She turned toward the doors at the far end of the room, and there she was. Louise was there. And Louise looked like a dream come true. Alex rushed to her. Not as fast as she could, but fast enough to ruffle hair and send papers flying, had there been papers.

Alex lifted Louise from the ground and held the other woman in her arms. She brought one hand up to cup her lover’s face and kissed her. To Alex, the kiss felt like it went on for all of eternity. It felt like they were dancing. The only thing Alex heard was the distant explosion of fireworks going off around her. The sensation of Louise held against her body caused a warmth to spread across Alex’s entire being. And Louise returned the kiss with just as much fiery passion. Alex could feel the love Louise felt for her through her skin. Despite everything that had happened, despite everything that had tried to separate them, Alex had made it back to her Louise. Nothing – _nothing_ – could ever keep them apart.

When Alex broke the kiss, Louise had a huge smile on her face. Alex knew that her own face carried her own smile, just as big.

“Wow.” Louise, now sitting firmly in Alex’s arms, smiled up at her. “Wow. That was some kiss.”

Alex could only nod. “I think it was the best kiss of my life.”

“Best kiss of your life so far, you mean.” Louise smiled back at Alex, then kissed her again.

It was ten minutes before they noticed that had been abandoned by their host. A servant had been left behind to inform Alex that she was welcome to the hospitality of the Wakandan royal house.

**XxxxxxX**

“Well, this is a sight you don’t get to see every day!”

Alex groaned, but didn’t open her eyes. She was so not ready for this. She, Alex, and Natasha were all sunbathing next to the king’s private swimming pool. And not one of them was wearing more than their bikini bottoms. Louise and the Widow were trying to tan, while Alex was recharging her batteries by absorbing as much sunlight as she could. “Wasn’t there someone guarding the door or something? You know, keeping the guys away while we all have our tits out?” she asked the air.

On Alex’s right, Louise giggled. On her left, the Widow said, “Different cultural cues. Wakanda doesn’t have a nudity taboo. So probably not.” Alex heard Louise shuffle around on her towel, which probably meant that she was turning over to keep Stark from ogling her. The Widow, on the other hand, was so impossible to embarrass that she likely wouldn’t have cared had Stark followed her into the bathroom and watched her pee.

“Right. No nudity taboo.” Still without opening her eyes, Alex called out, “Stark, if you’re staring at my boobies, I may have to rip your arms off and beat you to death with them.”

“Oh, come on, can you blame me? They are such magnificent objects of art they should be in a museum.” Stark’s voice was closer.

“He’s got you there, Alex.” Louise whispered, knowing Alex would hear her. Louise, Alex decided, wasn’t helping.

“Besides,” Stark continued. “Boobies? What are we, in elementary school?”

She opened her eyes. Stark had pulled up a chair and was sitting, a big shit-eating grin on his face. He was dressed in cut-off jeans and a Megadeath tour shirt, with what looked like custom grass-green converse sneakers on his feet. About as far away from his typical appearance on Forbes magazine as Alex had ever seen him. And surprisingly, he wasn’t staring at her tits, but rather wasn’t even looking. Not even those sneaky glances she’d grown used to getting from every male on the planet.

“What do you need, Tony?”

“I’m bored. I think it’s time we start talking about what we’re going to do. Because we have to do something.” Tony shrugged and looked at her for the first time she was aware of. Alex watched him take in the surroundings, and then sigh about it. “Sure, living in someone else’s lap of luxury is nice, but I’m getting homesick. Did you know there aren’t any Burger Kings in Wakanda? Not a one.”

“There’s a Carl’s Junior.” Natasha said without opening her eyes or looking up.

“Ugh, no, please. Kill me first.” Tony shook his head. “Besides the fast food problem, there’s the entire ‘that bitch drove me out of my entire country’ thing. And she did it with the support of the President and the military. How does that happen?”

That caused the Widow to sit up in her chair. She took no effort to cover herself, Alex noted. _But then, neither have I._ It made her wonder to the point that she lost the first part of what Natasha was saying. “… -like her at all. Not really. I mean, sure, she can be a hard-nosed militaristic bitch, but no more than I am. She would have said something if this was bothering her so much.”

“So, she’s gone nuts.” Alex shrugged, then smirked when Tony simply could not ignore the effect the movement had on her upper body. “Superheroing is a stressful job. Maybe she just cracked.”

“No.” The Widow shook her head. “Like I said, this was way too organized and supported. If it was just Carol going off the deep end, she wouldn’t have been able to throw your girlfriend in a military prison.”

“She wouldn’t have been able to throw Louise in a military prison at all if I had been here,” Alex growled. She looked at her wife, who had shifted slightly at the mention of military prison. Louise’s hair still hadn’t grown back to the magnificent length it had reached before everything had happened.

“Which was the entire point of you not being here,” Natasha smirked. “We still don’t know how they pulled that off, and that scares me a little.”

“Sure. If they did it once, there’s no reason they couldn’t do it again.” Stark nodded. “And for the record, let me say that you being sent into a television program? That’s truly bizarre. And I know bizarre.”

“Yeah, it’s not like I haven’t been telling people about that since I arrived in this dimension.” Alex rolled her eyes with a laugh.

“Point.”

“That’s one concern.” Natasha held up a single finger. “We’ve got others. Like who are the jokers now calling themselves the Avengers?” A second finger went up. “Who authorized Louise’s arrest when she supposedly was in the clear?” A third finger. “What’s the long-term goal?” A fourth finger. “How did they militarize the Avengers?” Rather than using her thumb, the Widow held up a finger on her other hand.”

“Yeah, about that. Aren’t we – the Avengers, I mean – aren’t we chartered by the United Nations, for crying out loud.” Alex shook her head. “Isn’t there a treaty or something keeping that from happening?”

“Uh, yeah, about that. I think I might have been to blame for that.” At this, Alex sat up to stare at Stark. The Widow’s mouth had dropped open. Even Louise, still lying on her stomach, lifted her head to stare at the man.

“How’s that?” Louise asked the question before anyone else could.

“Well, hello Lady Clairol!” Stark asked with a smile. Alex smiled at that. Louise did tend to stay out of the hero talks. When she did take an interest, it was always weird. And Stark would not let Louise ever forget the nickname. “To answer your question, the Superhuman Registration Act. There are provisions which, in times of emergency, allow the government to draft superhumans into government service.”

“You asshole!” Alex glared at him. She could not understand how someone so smart could be so absolutely fucking stupid some times. “Why in the fuck would set it up that way?”

“I was trying to protect people, remember?”

Natasha snorted. “Well, looks like you impressively failed.”

“Okay. So we have a lot of questions. Do you think Carol could be doing this alone?” Alex looked to both Stark and the Widow, and they both shook their head.

“Carol is good, but she’s not a bureaucrat, and what she’s pulled off requires more than just ‘punch it till it falls down.’”

“Tony’s right.” Natasha nodded. “There’s got to be somebody behind all this. I don’t know who. I’d blame Henry Gyrich, but he seems to have disappeared off the face of the planet.” Alex didn’t flinch and she didn’t blink, but Louise nearly gave the game away. Thankfully, it appeared that neither of the other Avengers noticed anything. “Wilson Fisk doesn’t have the pull. Victor von Doom does have the pull, but he wouldn’t be this subtle and he’d include Carol in the downfall.”

Stark thought about it. “Right. Sebastian Shaw could pull off this subtle political bullshit, but he wouldn’t bother going after the Avengers.”

“How about the Maggia? They’ve got their hooks in everything, and nothing corrupts like mafia money,” Alex said.

“Nah, not Carol’s style. Besides, after what Daredevil did to them, they’re still rebuilding.” Stark shrugged. “Right now, they couldn’t take down the Postal Inspectors, much less the FBI.”

“Hey, don’t bad-mouth the Postal Inspectors,” Natasha said. “They’re the only law enforcement agency in the US with a perfect arrest record.”

“Magneto?” Alex asked, just throwing the name out there.

“No. Nope. He’d tear Avengers tower up by its roots and shoot it into space before he’d infiltrate the government to take us down from the inside.”

Louise raised her hand, and the other three people stared at her. “This isn’t Mrs. Johnson’s third grade class, Louise. If you have a question just ask it.” Stark said.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry.” Louise saw that she had the undivided attention of all three heroes, and swallowed sharply. “What about those dragon guys?”

“Those dragon guys? What dragon guys do you mean, honey?” Natasha asked.

“You know, the guys with the skulls and the tentacles. Cut one off and two will grow back or something.” Louise shrugged. “Their name was, like, Dragon, or Basilisk or something.”

Alex smiled at her wife, then turned to meet Stark’s eyes. Then she met Widow’s. Both of them were nodding.

“Yeah, Hydra might be able to pull this off.” Stark said.

Widow continued. “Especially if they started this years ago. They always play the long game.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be a nightmare. Hydra subverts the US government. If that’s true, they might already be in charge of everything. I don’t even want to believe that’s possible.”

“Yeah, but…” The Widow bit her lower lip, one of the few visible tells Natasha Romanov had. Alex could tell she wasn’t merely worried but was authentically terrified of the thought.

“How do we confirm it?” Alex asked. There was a fast exchange of glances between the Widow and Tony Stark, and then both of them turned to her and smiled.

“Well, it’s pretty obvious. We need to gather some information, right? We need to put a spy on Carol Danvers. One who Danvers can’t kill if the spy is discovered.”

“Sure, Tony.” Alex nodded. “Where are we going to get one of those?”

“Well… I’m just going to toss this out there, but… it occurs to me… we just happen to have a person here who can hear a mouse fart from a mile away during a thunderstorm. Someone whose eyes can penetrate concrete.” Stark said, his smile getting wider.

Alex stared at him a moment, then slumped. Stark’s eyes dropping downward toward her chest at the movement didn’t even register with her.

“Looks like I’m going back to New York, I guess.”

**XxxxxxX**

“You know, I thought I was actually going to have some fun on this gig, not have to put up with you moralizing me to sleep every fucking day.” She didn’t recognize the voice, but knew it was the person pretending to be Hawkeye.

“You’re here to play a part. The part of a superhero, not a scumbag. So act like a superhero.”

Alex stood on the roof of the Central Bank of Manhattan, overlooking Avengers tower. She had a clear view into the meeting room where the fake Avengers team was meeting, and had identified Hank Pym, Ares, and Carol Danvers. She had no idea who was wearing the Iron Man armor, but it wasn’t that Rhodey guy that Stark had talked about. Rhodey was a tall good-looking black man; the dude in the armor was shorter, and looked Asian. John Walker was there, and was having a hard time not glaring the new Hawkeye into the wall. Whoever was in the purple tights, the guy was apparently an asshole. And apparently, the new Wolverine was the old Wolverine’s son. Who knew, right?

And then there was the Thor clone. Stark had sworn up and down that this was _not_ the actual Thor. That this was _not_ the actual Asgardian. That he was _not_ carrying the real Mjolnir. She hoped he was right, because the thought of facing an _actual_ god carrying an _actual_ weapon of that much actual magical power made her leak on herself a little bit. The idea terrified her.

She had left Wakanda two days after the decision to gather intelligence on Carol, and so far, it had yet to pay off. Certainly, they now knew more about what the Avengers were up to, but they were just… Avenging. Fighting crime, stopping bad guys. Showing up on TV and doing PR pieces in support of the SRA and the Bush Administration. Nothing all that sinister. Alex was getting bored, and she was missing Louise. While Tony and Natasha were coming back to the US, Louise was staying in Wakanda. It not only kept her out of the line of fire, but T’Challa was going to help Louise get her life as a law student back. Turned out UCF had an ethics clause in their enrollment contracts, and being an accused international terrorist was a violation of said clause.

Alex stretched, making sure she never left the shadows of the building. Tony and Natasha were going to get the band back together and meet her in New York as soon. Steve Rogers had been briefed on her mission and was standing by as back-up if she needed it. They had contacted Simon Williams before leaving Wakanda – he’d been working a temp job in construction somewhere in Texas – and Janet van Dyne was coming back from Canada. They’d all be back in New York in a couple of days. All Alex had to do was find something incriminating.

Abruptly, Alex blinked, then shook her head. This was an interruption she did not need right now. Ales sighed, but didn’t otherwise make any move that would let the person approaching her from behind in on the fact that she had heard him – the footfalls were heavy, so ‘him’ – from the moment he stepped foot on the roof with her.

She allowed the unknown person to get within fifteen feet before she spoke. “That’s close enough. What do you want?” Alex never took her eyes from Danvers’s window.

“Oh, you know, the usual. World peace. My two front teeth. A hippopotamus for Christmas. And maybe a chance to bang one of the Olsen twins… I’m not picky,” the voice replied.

Alex’s face twisted in confusion. “What the fuck?” She turned around, ready to lay into the man, but stopped the minute she recognized him. The sight of him immediately caused her to deflate. What god had she wronged in a previous life to have Deadpool, of all people, come crashing into her plans _now_ of all times and places?

“Jesus.” She dropped her head into one hand. “You. Why in all the world do I have to put up with you.” She looked to the heavens, but there was no help there to be had.

“Nope. Not Jesus. Just me. I know who you are, though. I saw your YouTube video. Classic. You totally look like you do in your porn parody!” The man just stood there, as patient as he ever got, it seemed. She took a deep breath, about to speak, where she caught on to where he was staring.

_Typical,_ she thought. _Just typical._

“Ahem. Mr. Wilson?” Alex asked. His eyes rose – slowly – to meet hers, and the cloth around his mouth tightened just a bit, indicating a grin. “Wait just a god-damned minute. _Porn parody?_ What porn parody?”

“ _Super-Whore._ Stars some girl I never heard of taking some hard pole in every way that counts, if you know what I mean. Her hooters have to be at least as large as yours.” He seemed to blink behind his mask. “Now, tell the truth. I heard those were real and not, you know, a Hollywood special. Is that true?” Deadpool leaned against an air conditioning unit and crossed his arms. “You’d make a mint touring at strip clubs. And nothing says loving like dollars in the garter!”

Alex just shook her head, refusing to answer the question. “What do you want, Deadpool? I’m busy.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” The man straightened and looked past her. “Doing a little Peeping Tom action on Captain Reichsmarschall over there.” Nodding his head toward the Avengers tower, he continued. “Word is, you and she have a beef, and not the good kind of beef like you get in mom’s pot roast. The horrible slop you get at Taco Bell that keeps you in the bathroom for an hour.” He turned his attention back to her, and as she watched, his eyes drifted down to her chest. “When I saw you up here, I figured you were about to put a hurting on the Fauxvengers.”

“And you came up here to, what, stop me?”

Deadpool laughed. “What, me? Are you kidding? No! Way no! That’s so far into the not going to happen box that its sitting next to the Biggy and Tupac reunion!”

“What are you doing here, then?” Alex huffed. The man was a pain in the ass.

“Nothing much. This is just a pointless cameo! It’s all the rage in comic books! Alexi Vandeberg, one of the writer’s best friends in the world, bet the writer fifty bucks that there was no way in hell that he – the writer, I mean – would just drop me into the story at random, in the same way that all those comics back in the 90s would include Wolverine just to say he was in their title once.” Deadpool shrugged. “Back when they were doing it with Wolverine, it was basically just a cheap grab for better sales, but it worked. TV Tropes even has a name for it: ‘Wolverine Publicity.’ Pretty neato, right? Of course, it sort of breaks the flow of the story, but fifty buck is fifty bucks, right?”

“Wolverine publicity?” Alex had just about enough of this shit. “What in the hell are you talking about? What do you mean ‘back in the 90s’! It’s only 1997 now! Who the hell is Alexi Vandenberg? And what the fuck do you mean, the writer?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing.” It was clear the man was laughing at her. “In fact, now that I’ve made my appearance and broken the fourth wall and been atrociously obnoxious and intrusive, I’m going to go find some bad guys to spank! You can go back to spying on Blondie. The Mickey Mouse Club meeting just broke out. I think you missed it, talking to me.” With that, the man faded into the shadows. Alex could still see him clearly as he made his exit, but she didn’t bother to pursue. He was right about one thing: she needed to concentrate on Carol and these so-called Avengers, and couldn’t waste time tracking Deadpool down to figure out what that lunatic was up to.

She turned back to Avengers tower, wondering what Deadpool meant, but immediately figured it out. The other Avengers had left, leaving Carol there. With her was a man who Alex hadn’t seen before. She concentrated, and was suddenly hearing every slight sound.

“… your concern. You’re doing fine, Colonel. Just fine. You’re the face of a new America. You’re a very, very good girl.” The man’s voice was deep, and there was a soothing, hypnotic quality to it. Alex frowned. Just listening to him, there was something there that made her want to agree to everything the man said. Luckily, there were two voices in the back of her head, both Xander and Kara, screaming at her to not listen, and it worked.

“Thank you.” Alex’s frown deepened. That was Carol Danvers’ voice, but Danvers would never sound like that. “I want to be a good girl!” This was crazy. Carol sounded like a poor, downtrodden victim of an abusive spouse who desperately gathered in every word of praise like it was mana from heaven. If this is what Danvers had been reduced to…

“And you have been. And I brought you your medicine as a treat,” the man replied. Alex stared through the window, slack-jawed at what she was watching. The unknown man handed Carol a bottle or a vial or something, and Carol immediately popped the lid off it and swallowed he contents.

_A junkie. A junkie who was desperate to get the next fix._ Xander Harris had seen enough addictive behavior in his life to recognize someone who was hooked through the soul by a drug, and that’s what had happened to Carol Danvers. Immediately, all of Alex’s burning hatred of the woman was washed away, replaced by a mixture of pity and disgust. She knew Carol had always been a hard-case, but her descent into fascism wasn’t her fault. She was doing it because she was being forced to do it.

It took all of Alex’s willpower to not immediately burst through the wall of the tower and kill the man. Whoever he was, he was fucking lucky that they needed information on just who was pulling Carol’s strings.

“A man resembling Steven Rogers was seen in Cincinnati, Ohio, the night before last. You and your team should be ready to deploy the moment we can confirm his location. It would not do for Captain America and his band of idealist rebels to interfere with our plans for the government and for the American people, would it?” The man was smiling at Carol, but it was the smile of a predator.

“No, it wouldn’t do.” And Carol’s eyes were glassy now. She was out of it.

With that, the man rose. “Enjoy your evening, Colonel Danvers. I will be talking to you later.”

As the man left, Alex kept her eye on Carol Danvers for a few seconds. The new leader of the Avengers grew more and more visibly out of it until she slumped in her chair, unconscious. With a sigh, Alex stepped from the roof and dropped toward the ground. _There was no time to take care of Carol. I’ve got to follow the asshole._ She landed gently, and found a shadowy spot near the entrance to sit and watch. She wasn’t in her costume, and the coloration change she’d acquired in Buffyworld had faded upon her returning to Marvelworld. It was just a matter of patience and surveillance. And no one on earth could surveille like a Kryptonian.

The man emerged from the building minutes after she’d placed herself, and Alex watched as he entered a waiting car. The driver merged with traffic, and they were off. Alex waited for five minutes, keeping the car in view the entire time, before launching herself in the air.

She followed the car for nearly three hours as it first made its way through thick Manhattan traffic before crossing a bridge into New Jersey.

Alex watched as the car eventually turned into an active warehouse complex. The place was bustling, with a small army of men and woman scurrying around on their various tasks. There weren’t any convenient buildings overlooking the warehouses, so it was time to lie in the bushes. She hated lying around in the bushes.

“Well shit.” Alex stared at the warehouses, using her advanced senses to their fullest. Most were filled with military equipment. Cargo trucks, tanks, armored troop vehicles. One even contained a flight of attack helicopters. But it was the largest warehouse, the one the size of a football stadium, that bothered her. From what she could see, it contained a fully armed replica of the SHIELD Heli-carrier. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

She listened in on different conversations, sampling from the various people wandering around the base. Most were simple foot-soldiers. The creepy, crawling sensation going up her spine just got worst as she realized that the number of times she’d heard the phrase, “Hail Hydra” had passed the one hundred mark.

Alex pulled her cell phone out of her belt and dialed as fast as she could without shattering the small machine. “Come on, pick up. Pick up.” It only took five seconds for someone to pick up, but every single one of them felt like an eternity.

_“Superwoman.”_ It was Steve Rogers voice. Like Alex, he was using a burner phone that was only going to be used this once. _“I take it you found something?”_

“Yeah, I found something all right. It’s Hydra. And they have an army.”

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the reviewer who asked why I didn’t write a scene involving Thor pondering Alex’s worthiness after she beat him up with his own hammer, that wasn’t Thor, that was Ragnarok, the psychotic Thor-clone, and he wasn’t using Thor’s real hammer, even if Alex didn’t know that.
> 
>  
> 
> To the multiple reviewers who keep telling me to have Alex get the moonstone for Louise, yes, I am aware of its existence but doing that would not serve the purposes of the story, thanks for the advice you’re not the first (or even the fifth) to suggest it.
> 
>  
> 
> To the reviewer who made a joke about paraplegia and then recoiled in horror when they realized my physical situation, don’t worry about it. It’s not like I post videos of me writing this story, I understand.
> 
>  
> 
> And lastly, to the anonymous reviewer who called me a “fucking liar” because “this story is about a faggot turning into a cunt,” and went on to say that he (the reviewer) would “have the fucking dignity to kill myself if I was as fucked up as you were,” let me say how about you do us all a favor and go ahead with that plan? I’ll be happier, you’ll be happier, everyone will be happier. You didn’t even have the bravery to sign your name to it, so I’m giving it all the consideration your review deserves.


	30. Lighting the Fuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween ends and Xander Harris finds himself in a place he never thought was real, under circumstances he never thought possible.
> 
>  **Note:** The writer is profoundly disabled and writing is difficult for him. This makes updating difficult for him, and may mean months between new chapters. That said, he is constantly pumping out new chapters of this story, so be patient.

**XxxxxxX**

_“Before we get started, does anyone want to get out?” – **Captain America** (Chris Evans), Captain America: The Winter Soldier_

**XxxxxxX**

Alex leaned against the side of the bus shelter while she sipper her coffee. The coffee was shit, complete shit, and Alex struggled to keep the grimace off her face as she drank it. It was Columbian, naturally. She didn’t need her ultra-sensitive Kryptonian sense of taste to know that it was Columbian. All she needed to do was take a sip. The coffee tasted of the oily mud the beans were grown in. To a discerning palate – to a coffee snob -- one could tell these things with just a single sip, and Alex was a definitive coffee snob. This coffee was as far from the $35 a pound Indonesian special blend she normally drank as you could get and still technically be talking about coffee. But it was part of the cover, so she drank it.

As she playfully daydreamed of ways to cause the utter destruction of the deli where she bought the coffee – the most enjoyable idea she came up with was dropping a tanker truck filled with crude oil onto it from a thousand feet up -- Alex let the ebb and flow of New York City’s mid-morning traffic move around her. She ignored the cars and the people on the sidewalk and kept a subtle watch on the building across the street. Every time someone walked toward the building’s door, she examined them with her X-Ray vision, committing their faces to memory with telescopics. The guy who had drugged Carol Danvers – a goon named John Leslie – worked his day job here. Alex wondered if his bosses knew he was actually a Hydra agent, or maybe the entire place was a secret Hydra base. Either way, John Leslie was in for the shock of his life. He’d been cordially invited to an interrogation. Since Alex was the one member of their merry band of pranksters not busy that morning, she was the one chosen to deliver the invitation in person.

Movement across the street caught Alex’s attention, and her eyes narrowed at the man approaching the door she’s been surveilling. He was tall, blonde, obviously in shape, and carried himself like he knew how to move. Her X-Ray vision also revealed that he had at least two easily-concealed guns on his person. Hydra Agent John Leslie, as she lived and breathed. “Cool. An excuse to dump the coffee.” Alex dropped the half-full cup into the trashcan next to the bus shelter and stepped toward the curb. Alex was tasked to bring this man in to the safe house Steve had set up, and there was only one real way to do it. Tony warned her to keep everything low-key, so Alex figured it was best to get into the building like a Muggle, and only use her powers when it came time to confront the dude, if that turned out to be necessary.

“Hey there, babe! How’re you doing?”

Alex’s head dropped toward her chest. She so didn’t need this right now. She’d been so concentrated on the man with the guns and the building that she missed this toad approaching her. He was twenty something and looked either vaguely Hispanic or vaguely Italian, had a toothpick in the corner of his mouth, was wearing shades, and had his shirt open to the point of revealing chest hair. Combine that with a red leather jacket, and it looked like this guy had stepped right out of the 1970s. She shook her head at the bad luck of it all. Of all the times for Leisure Suit Larry to hit on her…

“Come on, sweet thing… not even a hello?” The man asked with a grin that just made him seem cheesier.

Alex didn’t even look at him. Maybe he’d take the hint. “Fine. Hello. Now, buzz off. Not interested. Way, way not interested. And busy. No time for your bullshit. Bye.” That’s when she heard the click. She turned toward him to find that he’d been taking pictures of her with his iPhone, the kind that for some stupid reason supplied an artificial and utterly unnecessary “shutter click” noise when it took pictures. Oh, this is not happening. This is not happening at all right now. The man was grinning as he put his cell phone back in his pocket, backing away from her all the while. “Okay, shit-head. Now you’ve got me pissed. I’ve got no time for some asshole who thinks he’s God’s gift to women. So back the fuck off!” To emphasize her point. Alex casually grabbed a parking meter, snapped it off at the base, and waved it under his nose. “Or I could beat you to death and save a lot of women the headache of ever dealing with a piece of shit like you!” The action gained the pair attention, and she found herself in a circle of people

The man’s eyes got wide as saucers. “Yeah, sure! No problem! No problem at all!” He turned and left, moving through the growing crowd as quick as he could without running. Every few feet he’d glance back over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t following. Everyone else just stared at her. Most had their cell phones out. Some were smiling, some were even smirking, while most of the remainder just watched. But there were also some who were deeply frowning.

One young woman, Asian with bright purple tips in her otherwise black hair, stepped forward. “I recognize you! You were in that YouTube video! You’re Superwoman!” The news of her identity traveled through the crowd like a lightning bolt. Alex just sighed as her cover was blown. The smilers grew in number, but so did the frowners.

“It is her! Its Superwoman! I heard about her on the news a while back! She’s a terrorist! Killed those soldiers!” The woman screaming this was holding up her own iPhone while filming Alex who was just standing there in shock. “Someone call the Army!”

“She’s not a terrorist!” The Asian girl turned and nearly spat in the first woman’s face. “She’s a hero! She saves people!”

“But the news is always saying…”

Alex tuned the voices out and looked around. With this crowd, and this many cell phones, the “new Avengers,” Carol Danvers hand-picked team of maniacs, was sure to already be on their way. While Alex knew she could take them, both Steve and Tony had told her to not cause a scene and to lay low. With another sigh, Alex crouched for a moment, then leaped upward, speeding into the sky fast enough that she was out of sight in seconds. There’d be time to find John Leslie and interrogate him later. For now, she’d head home and get the lecture from Captain ‘Better Than Thou’ and his team of moralizers. Yeah, he was a hero, and he was getting his hands dirty resisting the government and their gestapo tactics lately, but he never stopped sneering at her for some reason. The fact that he resisted her attempts to find out what the problem was didn’t help things.

That’s a problem for a different day, she thought to herself. Hopefully the lecture won’t be too boring and we can get back to figuring out what’s going on. And even more importantly, stopping it. For the fifteenth time, Alex wished Louise was in New York. She missed Louise.

**XxxxxxX**

When she got back to the SHIELD helicarrier they were using as a base, just outside US territorial waters, the ensuing lecture was precisely as bad as Alex had suspected. And as self-righteous. And it had gone on long enough that Alex started rolling her eyes. Which is what ultimately set the good Captain off.

“You need to stop pretending like this is a game and start taking it seriously! What were you thinking? With you range of abilities, you should never have been spotted at all, much less end up on the evening news!” Steve Rogers waved a hand toward one of the many screens on which a “Terror Alert” broadcast was being made. The Department of Homeland Security had got their hands-on footage from someone’s phone and, with a little editing and a carefully written news story, had painted a picture of ‘a group of concerned citizens’ stopping a known terrorist from destroying a building in Manhattan by way of public exposure. It was a beautifully orchestrated piece of propaganda. Though how did anyone in the government could believe that crowd could stop me from doing anything I didn’t want to, I’ll never know…

“Like I can control every single bystander with a phone! What did you want me to do, Rogers? Kill everyone there?” She rolled her eyes again. “Yeah, like that wouldn’t have landed on the news…”

“And that’s another thing. You and your casual use of lethal force. It’s unacceptable.” Rogers sneered at her. “Time was, the Avengers had standards and didn’t let murderers on the team.”

Okay, that’s it. Alex rose to her feet and stood nose to nose with Captain America. “Are we really going to do this now? When what we need is a little teamwork and planning so we can figure out just how far Hydra’s got their hooks into the Avengers?

“Yeah, I think now is a good time to hash this out. Before anyone has to rely on you for anything that matters.” She had to give Rogers credit. In the face of a superior opponent he knew could crush him completely, especially one who was actually taller than he and just as muscular and imposing, he never once backed down.

Alex took a deep breath. “Listen, you arrogant ass, I am not a murderer. I haven’t murdered anyone.” The lie came easy to her, even as Gyrich’s face flashed behind her eyes. She quashed the feelings of guilt before anyone else could notice they were there and drove on. “Yes, I acknowledge that I killed Bullseye and the Radioactive Man. But it wasn’t murder in either cases. Besides, I find the hypocrisy in you complaining about me killing those guys a little bit more than ironic, Mr. Super-Soldier.” She waved her hand at the assembled heroes in the room, and there were a lot of them. In addition to Tony, the Widow, Janet, and Simon, half of the Fantastic Four were present, alongside the Falcon, Daredevil, Spider-Man, Luke Cage, some girl wearing what looked like Ant-Man’s costume, and another girl in purple carrying a bow. “I can name at least five people here who have killed other people for reasons that range from self-defense to the defense of others to just plain old simple vengeance. So for you to come at me with this fucking attitude of yours is ludicrous. How many people did you kill back in the 40s, Rogers?”

The truth apparently stopped Steve Rogers in his tracks. Cap looked around the room and counted the faces of people who know looked guilty, not to mention the faces of people who were nodding. Tony Stark gave him a shrug and said, quietly, “She’s got a point, Steve.”

After a moment, he replied. His voice was low and quiet, and a lot of the anger was missing. “It was war. It isn’t the same thing at all.”

“It is to the people you killed.” Alex took another deep breath. “And I won’t lie to you, I do think about killing people sometimes. It would be so easy, you know? I’m a gay woman, Captain… do you know how hard it is to live in this country as a gay woman? There are people who want to see me and my wife murdered just for that. Can you guess how easy it would be for me to just round up all those bigots and drop them collectively into a volcano? Or all the racists? Or the sexists?” She realized she was ranting but she couldn’t help it. “Every time I watch TV and I see some hate group like the Klan holding a rally, I fantasize about showing up and just hovering in the air as I burn each of them to a cinder. Every time I see something in the news about some asshole in Congress taking away people’s medicare or making it harder for homeless people to get back on their feet by cutting funding for social services, I want to go to them and threaten to wipe out their entire families if they don’t do something decent once in their lives. But I don’t! And why? Let me tell you, it’s not because I am afraid of being thrown in jail. And I’m really not afraid of any of you, either. I try to make the world a better place, every single day, and it would be so god-damned easy to do that by merely wiping out the people who cause the world to turn to shit. You people haven’t worked with me long enough to truly understand how powerful I am. You keep thinking in terms of Thor or Sentry. But I’m on an entirely different level. An entirely different level. If I wanted, I could cause an earthquake just by stomping my feet. Or a hurricane with one hard, sharp breath. But I don’t. I don’t.”

She gave each person in the room a searching gaze before returning it to Captain America. Rogers had a thoughtful look on his face but wasn’t saying anything. She had more to say, so she continued. “I’m not asking for a medal for it, though. I’m not saying, ‘Hey, I deserve a fucking ticker-tape parade for not killing thousands of people today.’ That would be monstrous of me. But I am not going to stand here and be lectured about my moral choices by someone who doesn’t have to deal with my situation. I can accept you not liking me. But I refuse to accept you constantly dogging me about it all the time. I’m going to work with Stark and Natasha and the team whether you want me to or not because I’ve got some scores to settle. Might as well get used to it, because it’s not changing.” Rogers opened his mouth to respond, but she interrupted before he could speak. “And before you lecture me about vengeance, I want you to note that my main problem is with that bitch Danvers. You notice I haven’t just flown in and dropped a mountain on her? Or thrown her into the sun? Or just waded in and beat her to death? You have noticed that she’s still breathing? Yes?”

Reluctantly Rogers nodded.

“Right. And all I am asking is you cut me some slack.” She took another deep breath. “So… Danvers knows I’m back now. How are we going to handle that?

It was Stark, who’d been silent the entire time, and had kept other people from interfering with the confrontation between her and Captain America, who replied. “Well, we still need to talk to John Leslie. Natasha has been looking at apartment listings, and she thinks she’s found him. We need you to go into Manhattan again.”

**XxxxxxX**

Grant Phillips was an accomplished criminal, having spent years as a soldier for the Butler family, an arm of the so-called “Redneck Mafia” back in Northern Florida and Southern Alabama. Most of his work for the Butlers was B&E jobs and snatch and grabs, so even before he was recruited by Hydra, he’d known how to get into a place unseen and unheard. And after Hydra found him, and trained him, his skills were on an entirely different level, as befitting his status as a cleaner. He thought the usage of the word was funny, and every time he thought about it, he smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile, but then the way Hydra used the word ‘cleaner’ wasn’t all that pleasant either.

‘Cleaner’ as in, ‘cleaner of messes.’ As in ‘remover of loose ends.’ As in, assassin sent in to remove people who got in the way, or who had become inconvenient and potentially a problem for Hydra in their pursuit of world-wide domination. John Leslie, for example. From the mission brief, Leslie had been effective and successful at whatever mission he had been given, and had circumstances been different it’s entirely possible that Leslie might have moved up into the senior ranks of the organization eventually. Unfortunately, something – Grant was never told what -- had arisen that meant John Leslie might had become a loose end. And loose ends were never tolerated. Ever. Which is where Grant Phillips, the Cleaner, came in.

But he was an expert in breaking and entering even before Hydra, which meant that getting through John Leslie’s apartment door was child’s play. A hard-card against the plate, and some pins in the lock and it opened as if he had used the door key.

Once inside, he took in the apartment. Leslie obviously hadn’t put too much into it, which was understandable if he moved around a lot. There were a few personal touches, but the furniture was generic, the decorations were generic, the color scheme was generic. No style at all, thought the assassin. He had memorized the apartment’s layout, and knew to check the bathroom, the spare room, and the master bedroom, but given Leslie’s usual schedule the entire place was otherwise empty. In the sitting room – or whatever you called it, the room with the TV anyway – Grant selected the chair that gave him the best view of the door without simultaneously giving away that someone was already inside the room. He took out his weapon – it was an HP22 Semi, a pistol that was cheap as fuck but as reliable as the sunrise – and screwed a suppressor onto its barrel. Then he tugged a paperback novel out of the pocket of his jacket and waited. According to the debrief, it would only be an hour or so before Leslie arrived. The job itself wouldn’t take more than ten seconds or so – there was no need to talk to Leslie, after all, just to kill him – and then some minor cleanup afterward and he’s be out the door within five minutes after Leslie was dead.

Naturally, it came as a huge surprise when, fifteen or so minutes after Grant Phillips settled in to wait for John Leslie’s arrival, his attention was pulled from his reading by what sounded like metal scraping against metal. A tubular object – it took him a moment to realize it was the lock assembly on a door – went flying away from the sliding glass door leading to the apartment’s balcony. Grant stood, weapon extended, and when the woman entered the apartment he didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger on the .22 twice by instinct, instead concentrating on where to quickly hide her body so that Leslie wasn’t warned of his presence. Grant’s mouth dropped open. The woman had turned to look at Grant, and the assassin was able to watch the .22 slugs flatten against her forehead. He was still standing there, pistol extended, as the woman caught the now ruined bullets, glanced down into her hand at them, then smiled up at him and said, “Wow, that was rude.”

Grant recognized her. Everyone working in the area recognized her. It was Karen Starr, the so-called Superwoman. She wasn’t in costume, but no man who ever saw a picture of this woman would forget her. Not with that body and that face. What the fuck was she doing back in New York? That Mordo guy sent her to hell or something? This thought was Grant Phillips’ only moment of hesitation. Knowing he was blown, knowing that as strong as she was, and as invulnerable as she was that there was absolutely no way to fight her, no way to stop her from getting anything she wanted from him, Grant did precisely what Hydra trained him to do in such circumstances. He closed his eyes, put the gun beneath his chin, pointed upward toward his brain, and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Grant opened his eyes and she was standing right there, not more than a foot away, smirking at him. She held up a piece of black metal, and it took Grant a moment to realize that it was the top half of the gun, including the firing assembly and the barrel. Looking at the pistol confirmed it: all he held was the grip and the trigger assembly. She had somehow taken the gun apart quicker than he could react, while he was bringing it up to his chin.

“I know, right! Impressive! I remember back the first time I did that to someone, I not only took the gun away from them, I took their index finger with them. Not that he didn’t deserve it. I mean, the guy was a pimp and a drug dealer, and I don’t have a lot of sympathy for him losing a finger, you know?” She crushed the gun’s receiver into a small ball of metal, almost casually, and tossed it over her shoulder. Then she gave Grant the once-over. “Got to say, not too impressed. I mean, you’re just going to shoot yourself with your gun? You’d think an evil spy organization like Hydra would give you guys a poison gas tooth, or a suicide bomb, or something like that.” Grant didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t respond at all. “Sit down. We’re going to have a talk.” When he didn’t respond, she put a hand to his chest and pushed with just enough force to knock him back into the chair. It was built with a low-enough center of gravity to not tip back on itself, but it was a near thing. “I said sit.” He sat there for a moment, trying to regain his equilibrium, and as he did so, he noticed the woman glancing around the apartment. Her gazed from location to location, only stopping for more than a moment in a few places… but where her gaze stopped, there came a whiff of smoke and burning plastic. “There. Now we can have this conversation in private.”

Superwoman towered over Grant as she performed the most direct and specific a frisk as he’d ever experienced. This was no pat-down. She knew where everything was, from his cell phone – which she crushed in her hands the moment it was out of his pocket – to his backup piece, to even the pocket knife he’d been given as an eight-year-old boy by his grandfather. She even snagged his paperback. “Huh. Double Cross by James Patterson. He any good? I’ve never read any James Patterson before.”

“What?” He had expected to be questioned. He had not expected to be questioned about the paperback or his opinion on James Patterson as a writer.

“Is James Patterson a good writer?” Starr sat down at the edge of the couch next to him, pulled his chair around so that it was directly in front of her, and then grabbed him lightly by the jaw, with just enough force behind it to remind him that she was totally in control. She stared into his eyes, seemingly looking for an injury. “I didn’t concuss you when I pushed you into the chair, so you should still be able to think straight. Is James Patterson any good?”

The entire point of her asking went past him. “What? I mean… why the fuck do you care?” Grant tried to pull his head away from her fingers but it was like he was caught in a vice.

“I’m always looking out for a good book. Now, I’m going to keep this.” She waved the book at him. “When I’m done with it, if I remember, I’ll see about getting this returned to you once you’re in your cell. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to get you medical attention for the concussion. In the meantime,” Starr let him go, and Grant pulled back, twisting his neck back and forth to loosen it up.

“What the fuck are you talking about? What conc –“ and that was as far as he got before she reached up and thumped him on the forehead. Everything went black, suddenly.

**XxxxxxX**

John Leslie was a whistler. He whistled absent-mindedly while doing other things for the same reason other people would turn the TV as background noise but never once actually watch what was on. It was white noise.

He was even whistling now as he approached his apartment. Some snippet from a movie he’d seen. OR maybe a play, now that he thought about it. John repeated the refrain he’d just finished, with an ear toward remembering where he heard it. Took a couple of seconds, but eventually he got it. It was “With Cat-Like Tread” from Pirates of Penzance. The 1979 film version with Linda Ronstadt and Kevin Kline had been on AMC a week ago, and he’d watched it. Still whistling, John pulled his front keys out of his pocket and took a quick glance over his shoulder. The three girls were still following. All of them had the glassy-eyed look that told him the Puppeteer Compound was working.

He’d been able to snare the three with ease. Marybeth he’d met at a dance club; she was – or had been, at least – a pre-med student at Empire State. Jenah had once been a model at the Stephens Agency before she encountered John Leslie at a showing at the Hansen Gallery. And sweet Aleja had been a high school sophomore – now officially considered a runaway and ‘missing’ by her family and the authorities -- he’d bumped into while stopping at a bodega for cigarettes. Now, thanks to the Puppeteer Compound, they were toys of John Leslie. No, the word toys projected the image of the relationship. Pets, maybe? Pets. Yes. He loved them like pets, naturally. And they loved him back, in more ways than one, naturally. The thought made him grin. When he first ensnared them, he had to constantly dose them and give them reinforcing commands, but now all it took was the occasional booster. They were conditioned to the drug and to their need to it, and were conditioned to obey his every whim… which was entire point of it all, naturally.

Hydra paid John Leslie enough that he could afford to keep two apartments in this building, so he did. One apartment was his. The other was effectively a kennel. A place for his pets to stay when they weren’t playing with their master and seeing his needs.

John opened the door to his apartment, gesturing for the girls to enter quickly. “Go on ahead to the bedroom and get ready. I’ve just got to take care of a few things first, so feel free to start without me.” He flipped through the mail he’d grabbed in the lobby, on the way to the apartment’s living room. Mostly advertising, and a reminder that he needed to register to vote again. John dropped the mail on the reach-over counter that separated the small kitchen from the living area, and began his ‘I just got home’ ritual by dropping his keys in the bowl he kept there for that purpose, and yanking at his tie. He hadn’t noticed that the door to his balcony was open, or that the wind was toying with the curtains that normally kept the sun out of the apartment in the mornings. Why would he? He wasn’t expecting any surprised, except maybe once he joined the girls in the bedroom. Which is why he nearly leapt out of his skin when he heard the voice.

“You know, John, I’ve got to say, I’ve seen some shit in my life that could easily fall under the label “sick”, but if your taste in porn is any indication of how you are in real life, you are a sick, sick man. Don’t get me wrong, a healthy sex life is important, but this isn’t healthy for anyone. Not for you, and certainly not for them.”

John whirled around.

A tall, leggy, overly-muscled and large-breasted blonde woman was sitting on his couch. She looked for all the world like one of those lady bodybuilders he saw occasionally in the muscle magazines. She wasn’t looking at him, though. She was holding one of his magazines up in front of her face, looking at the centerfold. It was one of the magazines that he kept in the safe in his bedroom. One of the ones he bought in the back room of a basement shop on Mercer. The one involving studded wooden paddles, bruises, and crying women. “Let me guess,” she continued from behind the magazine. “You only read it for the articles. Ladies, go lock yourself in the bedroom and don’t come out until someone identifying themselves as a police officer knocks on the bedroom door.” And naturally, because John had already dosed them, they followed the order. How did this woman know…?

Which was when it hit him. He recognized her. He started to tremble as he recognized her. He recognized her. He recognized her from the briefing. She could kill him in seconds, without breaking a sweat. Her eyes were hard, and her smile was harder. 

“Oh fuck,” he mumbled. It was Karen Starr. Superwoman herself. He’d seen first-hand video of this woman executing the Thunderbolts. She’s fought off the Avengers and even managed to hand Thor himself his own Asgardian ass. He thought getting his hooks into Carol Danvers had made him a badass, but this… dealing with this was going to be impossible. There was no dealing with this. There was only surviving it! The woman’s grin turned even tighter and his trembling actually increased. Almost involuntarily, John checked the locations of the various cameras and microphones in the room. He was very careful to move only his eyes. If someone back at the base happened to monitor his live feed, he might get a rescue out of this. Of course, there was an even chance that he’d be seen as compromised and liquidated, but a 50/50 chance was better than…

“Don’t worry, John. I burned out all the cameras and yanked the microphones out of place.” Karen Starr tossed the porno mag onto the coffee table with an almost contemptuous flip of her hand, while bringing her other hand out of her pocket. There were seven of the miniature listening devices. Seven? John Leslie’s jaw worked up and down wordlessly. I thought there were only three! As he watched, Superwoman crumbled the high-tech electronics in her hand, leaving pieces no bigger than breadcrumbs. “Took care of that right after I caught the assassin.”

“A-assassin?” It was all John could think of to say.

“Yeah, this guy.” She nudged at something under his coffee table, and it was only then that John Leslie noticed that there was an unconscious man there. He’d been stuffed under the table, presumably by her. “A hit man of some kind. Or at least I assume. I mean, he was already here when I got here, and the moment I walked in he shot me in the head. Or, you know, tried to anyway. I’m guessing he’s from Hydra.” She looked him in the eye and smiled. It was a scary, predatory smile. “John, I hate to break this to you, but I think you have become a loose end.” Her smile told him she didn’t hate to break it to him at all.

“So, what’s going to happen is this: you, me, and the hit man here are going to take a little trip to a nice, secure interrogation room outside of US territorial waters. And then we’re going to have a conversation about what’s going on with Carol Danvers. But first…” The woman stood and towered over John Leslie, who gulped and instinctively stepped back away from her. John Leslie was no Captain America. “Don’t move. Don’t even breathe.”

He nodded. At this point, anything she wanted him to do was fine. John watched she went to his front door. The mass of her body hid the door from him, but there was a creaking sound, then the sound of something tearing. When she turned back around, she held a good third of the door in her hand. “Huh. Can you believe it?” The woman almost asked as she tossed the fragment of the door aside and moved to stand in front of him. “Your front door is two thin sheets of pressboard with some Styrofoam in the middle. Shoddy construction, John. It’s a bane to civilized society.” Slowly, Starr reached out toward him. Before he could say anything or otherwise react, she’d grabbed at his jacket above the pocket and yanked. The cloth tore, naturally, and his cell phone and a good portion of his jacket came away in her hand. She let the cloth drop and tapped at the phone for a moment.

In a moment, he heard the voice through the phone. “9-1-1. What is the nature of your emergency?”

Starr grinned at him before yelling, “Help! He’s busting through the door! I think he wants to kill me! You’ve got to…” And then she crushed his phone in her hands. “Time to go, John.” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out what looked like a black cloth bag.

John managed to get “Are you kidding me? You’re going to –“ before the hood went over his head.

**XxxxxxX**

John blinked, owlishly, when the hood was finally yanked off his head, but he knew it was at least an hour. The entire thing had been an odd experience, one that he’d never been through since training as a Hydra agent. He knew that Karen Starr had thrown him bodily over her shoulder. He knew she’d taken off into the air from his balcony because he could hear the Manhattan traffic below them. And then came the flight. It was cold and windy, and he was sure he’d smelled the ocean at one point, but it also had the rushed feeling of a rollercoaster ride, with constantly shifting G-forces. The truth was he had no idea where he was. For all he knew, he was in China now. When they got to where they were going he’d heard voices, and announcements, that made him think military base, or maybe SHIELD facility. Starr had carried him into this room – which was soundproofed, he could tell; soundproofed rooms just sounded soundproofed from the inside. She had plopped him into the chair he was still in, cuffed him to what felt like a metal table, and said she’d be back later. He knew it was hours ago, but how many hours? No telling.

But now the bag had been removed. This was good, because he was beginning to need to go to the bathroom.

He glanced around the interrogation room. It couldn’t have been anything else, really; he’d seen enough episodes of Law and Order to recognize it, even if had that high-tech day-after-tomorrow look so common among SHIELD facilities. A table was before him, a mirror along one wall that was no doubt just one-way glass. Cameras in the corners. An electronics assembly in the ceiling above the table that had to be more cameras and microphones. Like he thought. Any fan of Law and Order could have recognized the room for what it was. Seated at the table across from him were two people. One of them was an athletic, red-headed woman who looked vaguely familiar, John thought, and the other was a middle-aged man who looked remarkably like Tony Stark. Behind Stark, leaning against the wall that held the ‘mirror,’ was a tall muscular man with blonde hair. Next to him, also leaning on the wall, was Starr. And next to her was a hugely-built man with black hair, wearing a pair of wrap-around red sunglasses. A sound behind him made him turn his head to look. A shorter woman, brown-haired, atheletic looking, stood there, staring at him.

It took him a minute to recognize them all: Karen Starr meant the Avengers, which meant this really was Tony Stark. The woman against the wall would be Natasha Romanova, which was why she was familiar to any Hydra agent. The blonde man must have been Steve Rogers. Captain America himself. The other two would be Wonder Man and the Wasp.

A polite cough brought John’s attention back to the people sitting at the table with him. Tony Stark smiled at him. So… John. Do you mind if I call you John?”

“Uh, no, that’s fine.” John nodded, trying to be helpful. There was no reason not to be. He wasn’t one of the brainwashed soldiers who’d die at the whim of his Hydra commanders. By now the leadership had to know he was compromised, which meant he was dead anyway. Might as well try to stick it to the people who’d eventually kill him.

Stark just smiled again. It occurred to John that he had never realized just how short Stark was in comparison to the other Avengers. “So, let’s talk about the overall plan, shall we? Here’s what we know, and we want you to fill in the gap. Right now, there’s a small army of Hydra personnel hiding in plain sight on an Air Force base the government closed eight years ago due to budget cuts out in New Jersey. Hydra managed to get this base up and running without anyone noticing and are using it as their base of operations in this part of the United States. In fact, all of your personal operations are being run out of it. So, tell me, John, how does Hydra take over a disused Air Force base without anyone noticing?

“Uh… noticing?” John was puzzled for a moment, then understood it. “Oh, you mean how did we take over an Air Force base without the government figuring it out. Yeah, uh… well, they don’t tell me much, so I don’t really know what’s…” That was as far as got before Karen Starr dropped one hand on the table. Her hand landed no more than an inch and a half from his own fingertips. For all that it looked casual, the table itself shook a bit and there was a distinct dent under her hand. His attention was immediately drawn there. “What are you -- ”

Karen Starr leaned in. “I can hear your heartbeat, John. I can see your body temperature shift. I can track the tachycardiac pulses moving along your nervous system. When you lie, all these things change. Which means lying to us isn’t worth the effort and will only get you punished. Do you understand, John? Nod your head if you understand.”

John frantically nodded his head. His memory brought up autopsy images Hydra had acquired after this woman punched Bullseye in the head. They were not pretty images at all. He stared at her hand a moment, then brought his eyes back to hers.

“Good. Now, Mr. Stark asked you a question. How did Hydra take over an Air Force base?”

“Air Force base, John.” Stark asked again.

“Hydra bought the entire property. It was covered as a real estate development deal.” John took another deep breath. He was very aware that Starr was scratching at the table, raking up metal shards with just her fingertips. “The company that bought the property was going to turn the base into a series of residential neighborhoods, right? Put in a couple of parks, a shopping center, and rebuild the base hospital. But it was a Hydra front. The company that was supposed to do all this went ‘bankrupt’ and so the base has just been sitting there as far as anyone knew.” He shrugged.

Romanova nodded. “The Bratva does that sort of thing all the time in Russia. Buy up lots of property, get construction contracts, go out of business, keep the money.”

“Same kind of set up.” John shrugged, trying to casually move his own hands away from the blonde woman’s fingers. “Different goal. It gave Hydra time to finish construction.”

“Right. Okay, so what’s the point? What are you idiots doing here?”

“I don’t know!” John knew he sounded desperate, and Stark did cut a quick glance to Karen Starr, but the woman just shook her head. “No, seriously, I was given my assignment. I was to meet Carol Danvers and bring her under control using the Puppeteer formula. Then I’d use her to get to the rest of you. Hydra wanted the Avengers under their control, and I was told Carol Danvers was the weak link.”

“Okay, let’s talk about this Puppeteer formula. What the hell is it?” Stark asked. “Are we talking about the clay used by Phillip Masters? That Puppeteer?”

“I don’t know.” Starr’s hands moved to grip one of his. It felt like he was being held in a vice; not painful, but not escapable, either. John yelled, “No! I don’t know! I just, you know, have a guess!”

The pressure lifted. “Tell us your guess, then,” Starr growled.

“Right! It’s a drug, and I think, yeah, they make it out of the same sort of stuff that old kook Masters used against the Fantastic Four.” Leslie looked around the room, meeting the eyes of everyone but the blonde man standing behind them. “I’m guessing that’s why they call it that. I don’t know for sure. I don’t have anything to do with making it. Just giving it to Danvers. I don’t even give it to Pym. Danvers does that.”

“You’re using a formula based on the Puppeteer’s clay?” Stark stared into space. “Well, I guess we should be grateful no one’s thought of that before.” The billionaire brought his attention back to Leslie. “How’d you get to Danvers?”

“Met her in a singles bar.” Leslie’s eyes went hooded for a moment, as if he was remembering. “I was selected for this mission because from what Hydra’s surveillance can tell, I fit her favored physical type when it comes to men. There was another agent working alongside me who fit her favored type for women. We, uh, tag-teamed the mission. One of us would go to a pick-up bar we knew she frequented and would just wait.” John shrugged. “I got lucky. She danced with Lesko, but never took her home. Me? I danced with her a couple of times, even, but it took a while. She was cycling through the regulars there – I’m talking, like, a different guy or a different girl every night for a month, never repeating. She is seriously into the entire ‘take them home, fuck their brains out, shove them out the door’ thing and she never repeats a lover, I guess. So, I knew all I had to do was wait. Eventually my turn came around.” Leslie slowed down, noting the disgusted looks on people’s faces. “Anyway, she took me home, and from there it was easy.”

Behind Stark, the Black Widow literally face palmed. She muttered something that sounded like, “Eta shlyukha otkryvala nogi vsem,” and shook her head. She looked outraged. “You roofied her and raped her.”

“Hey, she was going to sleep with me anyway! Seriously, Danvers just about gives it up to just about anybody who asks! All I had to do was wait for her to come to –“

“SHUT YOUR GOD-DAMNED MOUTH!” Stark’s roared at the man. He took a moment to calm himself, before looking at his teammates. “Later.” Stark returned his attention to Leslie. “You said Danvers and Pym were hooked. Who else?”

“On your team? Nobody.” He shook his head. “You are always in that armor of yours, Black Widow is, like, totally paranoid and never eats or drinks anything she doesn’t prepare herself. Wonder Man never eats or drinks anything, so he’s impossible to dose. Ares apparently never even noticed he was dosed. Oh, and Carol said that when she dosed Spider-Man, he seemed susceptible for a while, for like, an hour. But then he shook it off and never had another reaction to any further doses. From what Danvers said, it took Spider-Man about an hour to break past the control, and she hasn’t seen any addictive effects as well. She was impressed by it, is all I’m saying.” He swallowed sharply and glanced around again. “Never got a chance to try the drug on Superwoman. Most of the current team are hooked.”

“Jesus!” Finally, the blonde man spoke. The one John was presuming was Captain America. “When was this going on? When did this start?”

John looked over his shoulder to answer. “Uh, I was instructed to hook Carol Danvers right after the disaster in Stamford. You know, the big explosion?” Leslie swallowed again, then nodded toward Stark. “Back when Stark was ram-rodding the Superhuman Registration Act through Congress, and you heroes were splitting into sides. Hydra thought it was the perfect time to strike. While you guys were too busy fighting each other to notice. My original target wasn’t Danvers. My handlers at Hydra wanted me to dose Captain America, to bring him under control. The plan was to use him as a long-term agent.” At this, Starr let out of loud bellow that seemed equal parts howl and honk – to be honest, it sounded for all the world like a seal was being tortured, slowly. It took a moment to realize that the woman was laughing. It sounded painful, absolutely painful. It also had to be one of the weirdest laughs he’d ever heard in his life.

Stark looked past Leslie toward his teammate. “You find something about that funny?” Obviously Stark had heard Superwoman laugh before, and thus was in no danger of mistaking it for someone dying of an embolism.

“Are you kidding me, Tony?” The woman honk-bellowed again. “Come on, Tony… Captain America as a Hydra agent? Please. Can you even… I mean, what kind of utter fucktard would you have to be to even think Captain America would make a good Hydra agent? I mean, God, that’s like taking a piss on the Constitution! He’s an icon, for fuck’s sake… and even if it happened, I wouldn’t believe it for a moment. Not for one damned moment. It’s -- ” she seemed to be looking for a word. “It’s just way too absurd to even be a decent make-believe story.

Stark chuckled at that – thank God his laugh was normal – and shook his head. “Yeah, that would be weird.” Stark looked at the blonde man, confirming John’s suspicions that this was Captain America. “What do you think, Cap? Want to be a Hydra agent?”

Leslie glanced up at the blonde man. Captain America was chuckling, silently. His body was shaking with laughter at the thought. “Sure, yeah. Okay,” the man said, sardonically. “Me as a Hydra agent. Yeah, that’s not stupid at all. Hail Hydra.”

**XxxxxxX**

As everyone filed back into the conference room after the interrogations, Alex let the others sit at the table. As she waited, she half-sung-half-hummed the phrase, “I am the very model of a busty superheroine…” to herself. Leslie had been whistling that song from Pirates of Penzance and it had called to mind an absolutely earworm YouTube parody she had seen once. The song in the video was an earworm, and at the moment it just wasn’t letting her go, almost to the point that she almost regretted watching it. Of course, it wasn’t the worst parody of the ‘Major General’ song she’d ever heard. The difference, of course, was that this time the song was about her, and Alex was still wondering whether she should take it personally.

The Black Widow shifted slightly next to her and leaned closer. “Are you humming Gilbert and Sullivan?”

“No. Its’s uh… it’s hard to.” Alex began and then stopped. “Can I talk to you later?”

The Widow shrugged. “No problem. Did I irritate you somehow?”

“No. The song did. I’ll show you later.”

Both women turned their attention back to the meeting, which had just started once everyone arrived. Captain America brought everyone to order and began. “So, did we get anything out of the hit man?”

Sue Richards shook her head. “No, he did the usual Hydra ‘Cut one head off, two more regrow’ nonsense. Total fanatic. We probably need to put him on suicide watch just to keep him alive.”

“Damn.” Captain America sighed. “Our interrogation of Leslie bore a lot more fruit then. We still don’t know what their full plan is, but we know what his mission was. He was supposed to drug all of us, not just Carol and Hank. We just got lucky about it.”

“And the overall plan?” Sue asked.

“He didn’t know.” Captain America looked around the room. “Taking Leslie means Hydra knows we’re coming. We’ve got to take down their base, which will mean going up against Carol and her new ‘Avengers’ team. It’s not going to be pretty.”

Alex had just been following along, but at this.. at this she stepped forward. “Cap, I have an idea. You guys take out the Hydra base. You’re not going to have to worry about Carol or her team. I’ll make sure of that.”

Cap stared at her. “What are you planning?”

Alex shrugged. “Distraction. I show up just as you launch the attack on the base, and keep them all busy until you’re done at the base. That way, Carol and her team don’t interfere with you at all.”

Captain America continued to stare. It was clear that he didn’t like the plan, but… “Okay.” He turned to the rest of the room. “Let’s get prepped for the attack. When we’re ready, Superwoman will start her ‘distraction,’ and once that’s underway, we’ll strike. Any questions?”

There were no questions.

**XxxxxxX**

“There haven’t been any new sightings since yesterday.” The man making the report was dressed in Hawkeye’s purple costume, but Carol knew he wasn’t Clint Barton. He was Barney Barton, Clint’s older – and morally looser – brother. “Wherever Superwoman went off to, she’s keeping her head down.”

Carol Danvers was seething. What did they think, that this was a joke? None of the rest of this team of ‘Avengers’ the government had assembled took the threat Karen Star presented seriously. None of them. They didn’t know the woman like she knew her. They hadn’t fought Starr. They hadn’t had their bones broken, or been set on fire by her, or had almost been killed by… NO! She shoved the fear and desperation aside and glared at the people gathered around the conference table. The emotionally unstable Thor clone, who’d taken to calling himself ‘Ragnarok.’ A ‘Wolverine’ who wasn’t Wolverine. A ‘Hawkeye’ who wasn’t actually Hawkeye. She knew for certain that the man inside the repainted War Machine armor wasn’t James Rhodes. The only real Avengers present were Sentry and Yellowjacket. None of them were reliable, but they were the only team she had.

She leaned over the table, pounding her fist on it. “You people need to understand just how dangerous Superwoman is. This is nothing to joke about!” There were looks around the table at that, but she ignored them.

“Carol, no one is joking about – “ Pym started.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! Don’t you dare say a word. You’re probably responsible for her being back.” Everyone in the room jumped. Carol realized, as soon as the words were out of her mouth, how paranoid she sounded, but she couldn’t help it. She’d been more and more out of sorts lately. She knew how to handle it, though. When the meeting was over, she’d go over to John’s apartment, get high, pull the man into the bedroom, and then ride him like a horse until the sun rose the next morning. That would relax her all right.

“Carol, you’re being…” There was a distant booming, like thunder, but too close and too precise, that cut Pym’s protests off. The former Air Force pilot in Carol recognized the sound for what it was: something was approaching, dropping from hyper-sonic speed as it came. The floor-to-ceiling windows along the conference room’s outside wall shook – audibly shook – from the shockwave caused by the sonic boom. And within the space of an eyeblink, she was there. Superwoman herself. She hung unsupported in the air, outside the window. Her hands were crossed under her bosom, and her cape fluttered majestically in the high winds that were constant at this height above New York City.

Superwoman’s gaze took in everyone in the room, but then centered on Carol. Carol’s jaw worked, soundlessly, as Captain Marvel tried to think of something to say.

Superwoman gave a wry smile, and said, loud enough to be heard through the glass, “Colonel. Would you care to step outside?”

**XxxxxxX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ is the property of Warner Brothers in conjunction with Mutant Enemy Productions. The Marvel Universe is the property of the Walt Disney Company. Power Girl is the property of DC Comics, which itself is the property of Warner Brothers.
> 
> 2\. I am constantly making edits to this story, correcting some grammatical, spelling, and punctuation errors, adding missing words, correcting whatever misspellings I find, and so on. I'm also tinkering a bit with some of the language used. In any case, it’s slow going and gradual because I don't have any sort of beta reader helping me with it and because of my physical situation. So, if anyone spots any errors, please feel free to let me know. I need all the help I can get.
> 
> 3\. This story has its own TV Tropes page. Due to my long-standing argument with Fast Eddie (the guy who runs that site – I may have once called him an arrogant jackass), I'm not allowed to update it myself. If someone wants to go over there and tinker with it or leave a review, feel free to do so.
> 
> 4\. Just to issue the usual warnings, there is explicit language in this story, but no explicit sex. The main character is a gay woman, so if the idea of two women getting together offends you, sorry but there are other stories out there you might enjoy more. And because I don't want to have to repeat myself here, let me drop a huge spoiler on you: this is not a gender-bender story. It is not about a guy who gets turned into a girl; it’s about a girl who has a bit of a psychotic break and thinks she's a guy.
> 
> 5\. To the people who complained about my not detailing what happened with Alex in the Buffyverse, you’re going to have to wait, because that is a separate story entirely.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ is the property of Warner Brothers in conjunction with Mutant Enemy Productions. _The Marvel Universe_ is the property of the Walt Disney Company. _Power Girl_ is the property of DC Comics, which itself is the property of Warner Brothers.
> 
> 2\. I am constantly making edits to this story, correcting some grammatical, spelling, and punctuation errors, adding missing words, correcting whatever misspellings I find, and so on. I'm also tinkering a bit with some of the language used. In any case, it's slow going and gradual because I don't have any sort of beta reader helping me with it and because of my physical situation. So if anyone spots any errors, please feel free to let me know. I need all the help I can get.
> 
> 3\. This story has its own TV Tropes page. Due to my long-standing argument with Fast Eddie (the guy who runs that site – I may have once called him an arrogant jackass), I'm not allowed to update it myself. If someone wants to go over there and tinker with it or leave a review, feel free to do so.
> 
> 4\. Just to issue the usual warnings, there is explicit language in this story, but no explicit sex. The main character is a gay woman, so if the idea of two women getting together offends you, sorry but there are other stories out there you might enjoy more. And because I don't want to have to repeat myself here, let me drop a huge spoiler on you: this is not a gender-bender story. It is not about a guy who gets turned into a girl; it's about a girl who has a bit of a psychotic break and thinks she's a guy.


End file.
